Firefly in Summer
by primarycolors
Summary: Edward finds himself back in the little beach town of his childhood when he inherits the local bar from his uncle. The elusive, pretty girl next door has killer legs, a sketchbook and secrets that are slowly eating her alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! If you're coming from big bang and are anxiously waiting for what happens after the cliffhanger, take a deep breath. We'll get there. Start again with chapter one because things are a little different. I've tweaked, tightened and added a few scenes. I'll be updating every Friday unless it's a short chapter (like this one), in which case I'll go ahead and post the next one because I love you.**

**There are references to sexual assault in this story. The violence itself is not described but the aftermath and feelings associated definitely are. The last thing I want to do is hurt or offend someone, so please PM me if you have any concerns. I'll help you make an informed decision on whether you should read or not.**

**Lastly, thanks for showing up! I'd love to hear what you think but you don't have to review. If you do feel so inclined, I'll chat back. ;)**

**Lastly, lastly, I don't own Twilight.**

**_All copyright, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._**

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_February 2008_

The snow had turned ugly; on the run but still lurking in dark corners, plotting its return with the sky. Edward kept his head down and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, almost to the top of the familiar concrete steps before he felt a buzz on his thigh.

"Ah, damn it." He managed to fish the phone out of his jeans pocket but dropped his keys, juggling his laptop and coat. "Hello?"

"Edward?"

"Dad! What's up?" He wrestled with the deadbolt as he pinned the phone to his shoulder, mentally running through a list of acceptable excuses of why he couldn't come home for Easter next month.

"Where are you?" Carlisle's voice sounded tinny.

"Sorry. Trying to get in the door. I'm home, now."

There was a pause… then, "Edward. Son... I have bad news. Are you sitting down?"

He faltered. "What? No, I'm… just tell me."

"Pete had a heart attack this morning." Carlisle cleared his throat. "It was sudden and well... he's gone. I'm sorry."

Edward sat down hard on the floor.

"Are you there?"

"Yeah, Dad." He glanced around the apartment to make sure he was alone. "I'm here."

"It's not official yet but the house is yours. The business, the house, everything. It's all in the will. You knew about the will, didn't you?" Carlisle was good at giving bad news… detached but sympathetic. Edward wondered if there was a _Delivering Bad News_ course in med school.

"Yeah, he told me a long time ago but I never... I mean, he..."

There was shuffling on Carlisle's end, papers stacked, the creaking of his office chair. "If you want me to take care of this I can. We can just sell it, the money would go to you."

"No, no. God, no. At least, not right now." How could he decide about Peter's house when he didn't even know if he had clean underwear to pack? "When is the funeral?"

"I don't know," Carlisle said. "I expect in a couple of days. And that's another thing, Esme and I had plans to go to Italy for Valentine's. It's been planned for months."

_Typical. Fuck you, Dad._

"Yeah, no, you should go. Of course you should go," Edward said. "I'll be down there to take care of things."

"Alright then. Well, Esme sends her love." Carlisle had that goodbye tone to his voice. Edward could practically see his thumb hovering over the "end" button.

"Dad- wait. What happened? Where was he? Did-"

"Shelley said one of the neighbors found him on the floor. From the details she was able to give it sounds like it was quick. There wasn't anything anyone could have done."

Edward drew in a sharp breath. "He was alone then."

"We're all alone when we die."

"Yeah, but…" He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, as if he could physically push down any kind of vocal evidence that he was about to lose it._ What floor? His bedroom? The bar? It must have been downstairs in the bar if a neighbor found him. Who found him? Was it really quick? Or is that just something they say so the ones left behind can sleep easier at night?_

"Son? I need to go."

"Sure, okay, Dad. Thanks, uh, for calling."

"You're welcome. Edward... I'm really sorry."

"Yeah," he whispered to dead air, glancing down to see _Call Ended_ winking at him before the screen went black.


	2. Pretty Girl

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**Next update will be Friday the 28th. **

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Edward sagged back in the seat and stretched his arms. The _tick-tick-tick_ of the engine as it cooled was oddly soothing. No taxis gunning their engines, no roommates coming and going all hours of the night, no blaring TV. Nothing except the faint rush of the waves. He rolled down the car window and twisted his hand out in the sunlight. He knew without looking that the sand was blinding white this time of day and that the wharf down the road had already wrapped up the haul of the morning. The pastel rental cottages dotting the shore still looked like lollipops... strawberry, lemon, blue raspberry... and that little lime house on the end still needed a paint job. Nothing ever changed here, but he then loved that about Summerside.

He ran his hands through his hair and tugged at his tie, a pretentious piece of crap his dad gave him for Christmas. Pete would have gotten a real kick out of that one. He couldn't wait to get out of these damned shoes, though. Funny how they never bothered him in New York. He grabbed his suit coat from the backseat and shrugged it on, dropping his phone into the pocket. Pulling the crisp air into his lungs, he held it, blowing out slowly. The magic of this place gave him courage and that was a good thing, because he really didn't know if he was ready for this.

The bells did their familiar jingle as Edward walked in, the only customer all morning. And not even a real customer, since he didn't come in to buy anything.

"Well, it's about time!"

He turned and caught Shelley Cope in a fierce hug. She kissed him hard on the cheek then laughed as she wiped it off.

"Hey stranger," he said, grunting when she squeezed him tight. She looked frailer than he remembered but good God, her grip sure hadn't changed. "How are you?"

"Well, I've been better," she said. "We miss your uncle, baby. So much." She fluffed his tumble of copper-colored hair then smoothed it back down, "Don't do this to me again, Edward. Five years is too long to be away."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She patted his cheek where she'd rubbed off her lipstick. "Good heavens, you get more handsome every day. You look taller… and that get-up! Is that what they're wearing in town these days?" Her hand rested in the crook of his arm as she walked him to the front of the store, turning out lights along the way. For a moment the store window framed the sorrow in her lined face but as she turned her eyes warmed with an impish spark. "Are you my escort this morning?"

"At your service madam," he said with a flourish.

"Well now, hoity-toity. Anybody else seen you?"

"Nope, you're the first," he grinned. What a busybody. He waited for her to flip the door sign to _Closed_ then took her keys and locked the door. "Just drove in this morning."

"I guess you're cutting it kind of close, aren't you? I ain't surprised though. You always did have those night owl ways. I reckon you didn't even stop to rest."

"Couldn't wait to see you, Mrs. Cope."

She lifted her chin, spearing him through sooty lashes. "I see what you're doing there, Prince Charming." They walked the sidewalk to the little church in the middle of town. Giant maple trees hovered over Main Street, their branches sharp and black against the morning sky. "Did you bring a girl?"

"A girl?_"_ He glanced at her, eyebrows disappearing beneath his hair.

"Don't act like that, now. You always have one stowed away someplace."

"I've never brought a girl down here." They walked silently for a minute before Edward heaved out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. There might have been someone but it's over. Really over. I'm looking to relax for a few days." He frowned down at her. "So don't get any ideas."

"I don't know why you think I'd get in the middle of anyone's business." She tried to wait as long as she could before blurting, "So? What was wrong with her?"

"She was nuts, Mrs. Cope. Certifiable. I barely escaped with my life."

She hummed and squeezed his arm. "Well, it'll be good to have you back in the bar. Always so much life when you were there." They stood still at the bottom of the church steps as leftover leaves skittered across their feet. She looked up into his eyes, stormy forest green, just like his uncle's. "You ready, honey? …Edward?"

"Yes ma'am."

She squinted up at him and frowned. That pretty face of his had a bright smile but his eyes were as empty as a can of coke on a hot day. He needed a shot of whisky and a pillow in a bad way, bless his heart. She'd have to help him along. She didn't let go of his arm as they turned to face the residents of the little southern seaside town she'd known most of her life and Edward had all of his. The biddies from bridge club looked him up and down, clucking. Peter Mason had been Summerside; still _was _really, even though he had gone on to meet The Maker, bless his soul. The emptiness he'd left behind was festering and that was something that needed to heal. Edward was one of them, he was part of the Summerside family; it didn't matter that he'd been born and raised in Chicago and lived in New York. His heart was here and he knew it. But it'd been five years. The town wanted that boy buried deep inside the city slicker and that would take some coaxing. Mrs. Cope had a feeling that one shy little southern girl next door just might be his salvation.

"You'll be fine, honey. Just don't show any fear. They'll smell it from a mile away."

He laughed a little because he knew she was right. This time his eyes got in on the smile.

* * *

When Edward finally dragged himself to his Uncle Peter's door it was almost dark and his whole body ached like he'd been run over by a Mack truck. His Volvo was still parked across the street in front of the grocery so that meant his suitcase would have to wait until tomorrow. Somehow he'd managed to put Mrs. Cope in charge of all the women hell-bent on feeding him. Of course, an unmarried man of 25 who's just lost his beloved uncle to a freak heart attack must be in need of nourishment for the next two weeks... or _twenty__._ He appreciated the food but couldn't believe the production. She'd taken one look at him and shooed him away, whispering that if she saw him out of bed before tomorrow night she'd skin him alive.

The door to the bar swung open before he'd even pulled the keys out of his pocket. He frowned, more annoyed than worried; this was a small town after all. Some folks still left their doors unlocked. That was before he saw the chaos inside.

_What. The. Hell._

He stared blankly from the doorway before he hurled his keys across the floor. The barroom looked like a movie set, stuck on the scene where the bad guys come and trash the place searching for some kind of secret whatever hidden in a drawer. Tables and chairs were flung on their sides and the counter was littered with supply boxes torn open. Bottles rolled in every direction. Limp napkins fluttered all over the room, brought to life by the breeze blowing at his back. With a roar he put his foot through the nearest FedEx box and started hefting tables back on their feet.

It took him nearly an hour to straighten the big room and line the bottles up on the bar. He didn't know what had happened but it was going to have to wait until after he'd had a few hours of sleep. He was running on autopilot, with a dash of gloomy and more than a few shakes of sappy. Just listening to the surf through his old bedroom window was bringing tears to his eyes. He popped a couple of ibuprofen along with an Ambien and rummaged through his old clothes in the bottom dresser drawer. It didn't look like anyone had even been in here in the last five years. He dragged a finger trail through the dust on a Ted Williams card left on the dresser.

He unbuttoned his pants as his eyes swept over his old summer bedroom. A faded Dartmouth pennant was tacked crookedly to the wall and on the bedside table stood a picture of 6 year-old Edward—skinny, grinning and toothless, eating cotton candy with his mom at Six Flags. He crouched and picked up a used roll of film when he noticed it peeking out from under the bed. The casing smiled up at him, all cheery yellow and dusty in his palm; twenty-four little secrets trapped inside. He placed it carefully on the table then tugged his shirt off and dropped it on the floor. The sheer emptiness of the house had put him in a strange mood. This was his favorite place in the world but it was the last place he wanted to be. What would he change if he could go back and hang that pennant again for the first time? Tell Pete to lay off the burgers? Right.

Stripped down to his underwear, he flopped face first on the bed and moaned in pleasure to his pillow. Not speaking to anyone else the rest of the week sounded very appealing right now. The minute Edward closed his eyes he was asleep.

* * *

Oh God. The throbbing in his skull had become an actual, physical sound. Edward swam back to consciousness clutching his head; his first thoughts were of buying a new bottle of Advil since it was obvious the one in the bathroom wasn't worth a damn. The dawn glowed in thin streams through the curtains and he wondered if he'd slept through to the next day already. No… it was twilight. The beating in his head boomed again.

_BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!_

It wasn't his head, it was the front door. He jammed the pillow over his ears and whined. There was not one thing in this world worth getting out of bed for. He burrowed deeper into the blanket; hoping they'd go away if he ignored them. Except they didn't because someone had one hell of an arm. He kicked his feet against the bed in a little tantrum; a hissy fit, his mother would say.

He pulled on jeans and thundered down the stairs, his bare chest erupting in goose bumps. Whoever was at the damn door was getting a piece of his mind. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he should go ahead and sell this drafty old barn and catch the first flight back to New York where he belonged. After scrambling to get down there he paused in the stairwell. Of course, now that he was awake and out of the bed the banging had stopped. He weaved around the tables, almost to the front door when movement behind the bar startled him. Whirling around, he whacked his arm spectacularly on the corner of a table.

"OW! _AH, fuck!__"_ He clutched his arm to his chest and hopped, rubbing his funny bone. _Son of a BITCH that hurt._

A gorgeous girl with long dark hair popped up out of nowhere. He might have considered he was dreaming if it weren't for the fact he was cross-eyed with pain. His libido was way ahead of him though and thoughtfully placed the girl in categories like _Need-More-Information-Pronto_ and _Holy-Shit_-_Definitely-Fuckable_ for him to contemplate later. Little black dress. Barefoot. And oh good God, her legs.

But none of that mattered. The day was crashing down around his ears and the fact that he was attracted to some random chick at a time like this made him want to tear his hair out. He squeezed his eyes shut against the helplessness and anger that had simmered in his gut ever since his dad had dropped that bomb on him and then jetted off to Italy without a care in the world. He'd finally reached boiling point. It was the Ambien, had to be. The Ambien was screwing with him because he absolutely felt like hurting something.

"Are you all right?" She hesitated then backed up a few steps when she caught the expression on his face.

"Do you make a habit of kicking down doors while people are trying to sleep?" He said in a low scathing voice, his eyes fever bright. He cursed and rubbed his face with shaking hands feeling very much like he was about to vomit. A wild thing was bucking in his chest and no matter how hard he blinked the dark spots that floated in his vision wouldn't go away. Fucking hell, he was never taking Ambien again.

"I'm-"

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE?"

She flinched, giving him a perverse sense of satisfaction. Pretty girl sucked in a deep breath and pressed her lips together primly. She edged toward the door, watching him with dark eyes.

"Wait, damn it," he said, holding his hands up. God, his voice was wrecked, dark and gravelly and he couldn't begin to imagine what his hair must look like. "Do I even know you?"

She didn't answer and he knew she'd heard him. What was wrong with this girl? They stared at each other in a way that Edward might have found comical under different circumstances.

She'd almost reached the door. And idiot that he was, he'd followed her like a shadow on a sundial as she crept around the room. He leaned on the nearest table so he wouldn't embarrass himself if his legs gave out. "Did you need something?" he managed in a polite tone. If the girl couldn't answer to that she must have a severe case of the socially retarded.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Chilly air seeped into the room before she closed the front door and scurried down the outside stairs.

Edward slid slowly into the nearest chair, unexpected remorse settling over him. And feeling like _that _because of someone who had broken into _his_ house pissed him off; he didn't care how pretty she was. He put his head in his hands and laughed through his fingers. Looking over at the bar he wondered what in the hell she was doing back there. Surely she wasn't in there to steal anything. She didn't look like a thief but sometimes it was hard to tell. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Black dress...in all likelihood she was at the funeral so she probably wasn't a snowbird. He didn't know her though and he knew _everyone_ here. Living in New York had might have made him paranoid but he knew he'd locked that door before he went upstairs. Maybe she was connected to that mess he came home to. He got up to go have a look around.

Peter's bar was a traditional sort... large gathering room, all dark wood with a beautiful long counter in front of a mirrored backdrop, shiny brass beer taps, flat screened TV, colorful bottles lined up on shelves keeping watch over the bartender. Edward loved this entire house. The wooden sign he'd made when he was ten still hung over the side door to the supply room. Mr. Stanley had let Edward borrow his woodburning tool, helping him carve letters to spell _Uncle Pete's Bar_ right into the grain.

His dad had been hesitant to allow a six year old to live in a bar for three months out of the year even if it was with Peter. But when Elizabeth died, Peter and Edward just gravitated toward each other, each a reminder to the other of a beloved twin and mother while Carlisle seemed content to isolate himself at the expense of everyone else, even his own grieving son. Uncle Pete was the ultimate happy-go-lucky neighborhood barman but to be fair that was a little deceiving; he ran a tight ship. He didn't take the summer responsibility of his nephew lightly. While Edward was trusted with more freedom than he'd enjoyed back home in Chicago, he still had a curfew and consequences if he messed up. He did mess up. Frequently. Not much got by Uncle Pete but he always listened and he was never unfair.

Edward's eyes swelled with tears at the sudden rush of memory. _Shit._ He knew Pete being gone would hit him sometime soon. It was like losing his mom all over again. But he was _not_ having an emotional moment right here and now in the kitchen of all places. Absolutely not.

The refrigerator door was still open, accounting for the cold air that swirled around the room. There was nothing except for some kind of a casserole in a red dish. He pulled off the card scotch taped on top.

_Dear Edward,_

_I wanted to extend my deepest sympathies to you. I almost feel like I know you, Peter talked about you so often. I've been Peter's neighbor for a couple of years now and he was always so kind to me. I miss him very much._

_I wasn't sure how much cooking you did but I made lasagna for you. It has meat in it- I hope that's OK. You can freeze it and eat it in a few weeks or you can cook it now, whatever you want to do. I'm sure you have provisions for at least a year but I'm hoping I beat the rush. Set the oven at 350 and cook it for about 45 minutes._

_Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help. Again, I'm sorry for your loss. I know you know this, but he was really so proud of you._

_Your next-door neighbor, (the grey house)_

_Bella Swan_

_P.S. -Peter gave me a key to his house last year in case of an emergency. I'll be happy to return it if you like- I've never really had to use it much anyway. Just let me know._

_

* * *

_

Edward banged his head on the freezer door. Great. Pretty girl was his neighbor. She had a key. She brought him food and then he yelled like a psycho and scared her. How else would he expect this perfect day to end?

His brain was fried. Tomorrow had to make more sense. At least he hoped so.

* * *

**Poor Edward. Not quite an ideal first meeting was it? Hopefully he'll remember his manners next time.**


	3. Napkin Art

**The alerts and reviews and twittering are making my heart pitter patter, y'all. Thank you so much! :)**

**Disclaimer in chapter 1.**

**Next update will be Friday, February 4th.**

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The next afternoon Edward lugged boxes from the trunk of his car into the house. After he'd crawled upstairs the night before he'd slept hard for twenty hours straight. When he finally rolled out of bed and realized where he was, the first thing he thought of was Bella. Bits and pieces of their… confrontation, for lack of a better word, came back slowly. She was hot; he knew he didn't dream that up. But that was tempered with him acting like an idiot, yelling, foaming at the mouth like a wild animal… who knows what else. God.

He kicked the bedroom door open and dropped a box of books in the middle of the twisted sheets. Heat flashed when he remembered waking up with the mother of all hard-ons, in nothing but boxer briefs and Bella's note stuck to his chest. A bemused smile crossed his face as he stretched, his back popping. If she didn't talk they could always write back and forth. On second thought, maybe it was good she didn't do a lot of talking because then they could bypass all that shit and get right down to buck-naked business. He'd dug himself a hole though; unless she was some kind of masochist he needed to pull out the charm.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out the window toward her house. He should go over there and apologize like a gentleman… sometime. She was probably a nice girl. He ran downstairs to get the rest of the boxes. Hopefully she wasn't _too_ nice.

* * *

Edward paced his driveway, trying to look like he was doing anything except spying on his neighbor. She wasn't home. At least, he didn't think she was home; it was hard to tell. The little bike with the basket was missing so maybe she was grocery shopping or something. He'd taken his time emptying his car, thinking that maybe she'd come home while he was out there. _Oh hey, Bella, is it? What a coincidence seeing you here. Listen, about yesterday… _Then he wouldn't have to make a special trip just to say he was sorry. It could be casual, natural. Maybe he could ask her over to cook the lasagna for him. Maybe if he was nice, she'd tell him how things had been while he was away, maybe they could talk about Peter.

He walked back around to his car and saw Mike Newton coming down the drive.

"Oh my god, E, is that you? Hey, man! How you been?"

"Hey Mike," Edward grinned as he clasped him in one of those handshakes that turned into a hug. He slammed the trunk shut. He'd get the hanging bag holding his suits later. Like he'd even need those any time soon. "Come on in. I'll get you a drink."

They took the wrap-around porch to the back door, the actual entrance to the bar. The old house sprawled over two lots, plain, broad and unassuming. Edward used to think the house looked like Peter the way some people looked like their dogs. Quite a few additions had been built on over the years, yet the house accepted them all without question, like adopting stray little birds with no mamas. Edward ran his hand down the smooth railing, hearing the whistling tune of the sea breeze as it ran through the house, playing the same song since he'd heard since he was small.

"I'm sorry Jess and I couldn't make it yesterday. You know how much we thought of Pete. Hell, he practically raised us." Mike stepped inside, blinking, his gaze sweeping around the big room. The rich warm woods gleamed in the afternoon light. "So," he said, pulling out a stool. "What're you going to do with the place?"

Behind the counter, Edward grabbed his uncle's old Braves cap and turned it over and over in his hands. "I don't know. Thinking about staying, I guess."

"You'd love it," Mike said. "Pretty far cry from New York though. Might not be for everyone."

"I remember what it's like to live here," Edward laughed. "I haven't been gone _that_ long." He splashed Stoli into two glasses and covered it with orange juice. "And New York wasn't really where I wanted to end up anyway. I was only there a couple of years or so but I knew it wasn't permanent."

"You don't care about moving up to Chicago next to your dad?"

"You're kidding, right? A Chicago winter compared to this?" He looked out to the ocean. The water was freezing in February but the temperature hovered around a pleasant 65 degrees.

"Yeah, I guess there's no comparison."

Edward gestured with his glass. "I see she finally caught you." He grinned into his drink.

"She did." Mike's face softened when he looked at his wedding band. "Well, what'd you expect, Yankee? You left us all down here and stayed up there. She had to settle for me."

Edward let out a snort of laughter. "It was always you and you know it."

"I wasn't going to rub it in."

"Right. And that's not like you at all." Edward smiled. He molded the bill of the cap so that it curved and fixed it on his head.

"Hey, so I keep watching the bestseller lists for your name so I can say '_I knew him when'_. What's up with that? You haven't shocked and conquered the literary world yet?" Mike's smile disguised the barb only a little.

"Still working on that one, I guess." Edward pursed his lips then smiled. "I got used to writing ad copy… and hell, it's New York. With three roommates it was a challenge just to keep food in the damn refrigerator."

"Sounds tough. Weren't you dating someone up there?"

"Tanya. Yeah, that ended a while ago." He sighed at Mike's silence, knowing he was waiting for more. He was worse then a damn girl. "It started out okay, but she got serious pretty fast. Then she freaked when I tried to back off and… I don't know, pulled the fake pregnancy thing and followed me around and shit.

"No way."

"So needless to say, the last thing I want to get shackled to some girl. I might have been scarred for life," he said with a shrug.

Mike laughed. "You were never relationship material anyway. The day some girl gets you to settle down is the day Auburn wins a legit national championship. Either that or hell freezing over.

"I guess stranger things have happened." Edward didn't care much for this turn in the conversation.

"Well, anyway." Mike pushed his empty glass toward Edward. "Thanks for this. You had dinner? Mrs. Cope always has enough for an army."

* * *

"Who's this new artist Angela's using in the gallery?" Edward cupped his hands and peered through the glass. "Nice stuff. I bet the renters eat it up."

"God, I'm stuffed." Mike's breath fogged the window. "A local girl paints those. She's pretty popular."

"Oh yeah?" Edward asked with interest. They headed back towards the bar. The town was so small that a person could walk the circuit in about ten minutes. And that was at a leisurely stroll.

"I meant her _paintings_ were popular. You haven't changed one bit. You always had women falling at your feet and you never appreciated it." Mike scowled, a bitterness to his voice that surprised Edward. "Yeah, she's hot, and no, she's not attached. I don't really think she 'does' attachments."

"See there? Just what I need. I have to meet her now. So… what, is she thirty? Older?"

"No, she's young-"

"How young?"

"Not _that_ young. Seriously though, trust me… you don't want this girl." They crossed the slow county road that separated the town from the beach cottages. "Her name's Bella. But don't burn any bridges 'cause she lives next door to you."

"Oh." Edward grimaced. "Bella Swan. I met her yesterday… sort of."

They stopped in the sandy stretch that separated Edward's house from Bella's. He'd always liked that grey house. Her house, now. It had a nice breezeway.

"I asked Bella out a few times, when she first moved here." Mike muttered in a low, conspiratorial voice. "She totally shut me down."

Edward grinned_. The truth comes out_. "That's hard to believe, really. Such a fine specimen as youself? And med school to boot?"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Well, I was only in pre-med at the time but yeah, you'd think she'd be all over me anyway. She was frigid, man. I think she realized later she was a bitch because she made some half-assed attempt to apologize or something." Mike fisted his hands in his jeans and stared daggers at Bella's house. "She comes across as being kind of shy, but Jess says it's a cover for her giant attitude problem. I don't even think she gets along with anybody. No, wait. …Shelley Cope likes her. And Angela Cheney."

"Angela sells her stuff in the gallery though," Edward murmured, looking at the rioting group of pansies by the front door. She had a Tweety Bird towel hanging on the rail of the back porch. The bike was still missing.

"Yeah, good one. That explains it. Business reasons. Anyway, I finally asked Jessica out and the rest is history."

"Oh, I forgot that Uncle Pete told me." Edward clapped him on the back. "Congratulations, man. Do you know if it's a girl or a boy?"

Before Mike could reply, Bella's screen door smacked opened and both men jumped. Edward sucked in a breath as he saw her for the first time free of the Ambien haze. She was even lovelier than he remembered. Wisps of her dark hair had wrestled free from a ponytail and those curvy sex-legs were poured in and out of some sort of stretchy black workout pants. Fingernails looked bare but her toes were tipped crimson. He swallowed hard.

Bella checked her towel and squinted at the weak sun hiding in the clouds. She was gathering it up when she saw the two men gaping with vacant stares in her general direction. She glared and darted back inside, slamming the door. Edward blinked and shook his head like he was coming out of a trance.

_I knew it. She hates me._ "Wow," he said. "Welcome to neighborhood."

"I told you!" Mike pointed wildly at her empty porch. "Now, don't get upset if you— you know…" He twisted his hands in the shape of a dive-bombing airplane, whistling and ending with the inevitable kaboom.

Edward took a step back to avoid any flying spittle. Asshole. Mike looked way too happy about this. "Not a chance in hell. I have substantial charm whereas you… obviously_,_ have none," he said, grinning.

"Right. Just wait—"

"Hold on- I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Even if she shoots me down, I'll make her an offer she can't refuse."

"Ha! A 'fuck only' option? Classy, Cullen. Real classy."

"You're the one who said it, you crass son of a bitch. But seriously, a girl who looks that good has got to have her sex drive full throttle, right? I'm convenient, that's all I'm saying. She can use this all American boy next door all she wants; you won't hear me complain one bit." Edward rubbed his hands together, evil villain style. "Stick with me Mike, you'll learn things."

"I'm the one who's married!" Mike shoved him, laughing.

"And that is exactly my point, young grasshopper."

* * *

Edward opened the door and stood, restless but hesitant to cross the threshold into his uncle's room. It was the nicer bedroom; bigger, and it overlooked the beach. The sliding glass doors opened to a large deck, two weather-beaten rocking chairs and a round wooden table- the best spot in the world for a beer and a sunset. When he was really young, he would tiptoe out there at night and set up camp in one of those old creaky chairs, snuggling with his pillow, captivated by the moonlight floating in the water. The waves and gentle motion of the rocker mixed with the din from the bar crowd was better than any bedtime story. His uncle would find him curled up with his head on the chair arm, clutching his stuffed dog as the salt breeze ruffled his hair.

Ever since he could remember, he'd been part of this place… barefoot, fishing, splashing in the surf. His parents had been happy together here. Sometimes he still smelled how his mother's perfume lingered on his pillow from her goodnight kisses. Sunrise shells on the beach, the bait store with his dad, crawling in bed late at night when he was sunburned and deliciously tired, listening to the hum of his parents talking politics on the porch… they were all tiny gems he took out from time to time. Colorful and precious, but sometimes so vivid it hurt to look.

A few weeks after his mom died, Edward begged his dad to take him back to visit Uncle Peter's beach. But Carlisle was haunted in his own way by Elizabeth's death. He withdrew completely and swore to never set foot in Florida again. Edward came home from kindergarten the next day and wriggled under his bed with the cordless phone. He called his uncle Pete and made his own arrangements. Carlisle stayed true to his word, he never went back to Summerside, but at least he had awareness enough to see his son needed that connection. After all, Elizabeth had been a beach baby since the day she was born and her blood ran through Edward.

The pain that tingled up his forearm brought Edward out of a daze. He forced his hand to release the doorknob and wiggled his aching fingers. Why could he not simply walk into the room? It was as familiar to him as his own hand. But the last time he was in Summerside all he had to worry about was where to take his girl of the week out to eat that night and if he had a condom in his wallet. What did he know about running Peter's bar? The possibility of screwing up years and years of his uncle's hard work terrified him.

He stepped back and closed the door. Tomorrow he'd try again. Maybe.

* * *

"Bella? Your package came this morning, dear." Mrs. Cope waved at her from the newspaper display. "Come 'round here and I'll get it. More paintbrushes I reckon, from the shape of the box."

"Yes, thanks, Mrs. Cope."

They met at the checkout counter. "You're very welcome." Mrs. Cope smiled but held the mail hostage behind her back. Bella sighed. Looked like she was in for a chat.

"You've met Edward by now I expect. How's he settling in?"

"I'm sure he's fine."

"You can't let him mope around, now. That boy will think himself to death. Didn't you fix him a lasagna?"

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Cope huffed. "Well?"

"Um, I think he's been real tired. And I've been busy, you know. I'll keep an eye out for him." Bella's face pinked and she looked at the door longingly. "I've been planning to run over there to check on him again, I guess, I just, I don't want to bother him. He's probably got other stuff… to do." Bella noticed that she was stretching the cuffs of her henley and she forced her hands to be still.

"Darling, I know you don't know Edward but a sweeter boy was never created. You remember Peter, what a wonderful man he was. Well, he poured every ounce of goodness into that nephew of his. Now, I'm not saying Edward won't act like he don't need nothing or nobody. He's a man and men are like that. But I'll tell you this. That boy needs a friend and with you being so close—"

"Oh, Mrs. Cope, I understand. I do. I'll try my best. Peter would have wanted me to."

"Good girl. And you have to admit he ain't so hard on the eyes, neither."

Bella's face burst into flames and Mrs. Cope patted her hand. Smiling, the older lady produced Bella's package with a flourish, as if she was satisfied with the answer to some unknown question.

* * *

Bella walked laps around her kitchen, pausing only to check that her cookbook edges lined up or to make sure her little sugar bowl had enough Splenda packets even though she knew she'd just refilled it last week. She passed the window and glanced next door for what felt like the hundredth time. He was still outside. Her new neighbor, Summerside's golden boy, Edward Cullen. That meant she was staying _inside._ For the time being, anyway.

If she was counting, she'd already sketched him about twelve times in the past week. He was easy to draw; very memorable, his face- his jaw especially- the funny way his hair fought for independence. Right after that horrifying encounter on the day of the funeral she'd ran upstairs and put him straight onto a canvas. It was incomplete though; once she got to his eyes she was too flustered to finish.

She watched for a moment and then fumbled for the pencil that lived behind her ear. He was so beautiful it was almost a crime. The lines of his shoulders, the arch of his neck, her pencil flew and they all emerged in shades of gray on a napkin square, turning ordinary into _extraordinary_. Bella had seen pictures of Edward of course; Peter had talked about him all the time. But nothing could have prepared her for the experience of meeting him. He hadn't turned out to be very nice despite what Mrs. Cope said. But then, people were rarely as beautiful on the inside as they were on the outside.

She needed to get over herself and walk over there. She'd told Mrs. Cope she'd try. And Peter would have wanted her to be friendly with Edward. Maybe she was wrong about him. If Peter and Mrs. Cope loved him so much then there had to be something she was missing.

* * *

It took a good couple of days to clean the house from top to bottom. Edward had briefly considered hiring a cleaning crew but he had nothing else to do so he did it himself. For some reason, the windows were cleaned especially well; that's when he realized he'd been spraying and wiping Windex in the same spot for ten minutes with his nose pressed against the glass looking for any sign that his neighbor still existed. He couldn't explain it but her absence grated on his nerves, like they were dating and he was getting the cold shoulder. Ridiculous. Well, _he_ was _not_ going over _there._ Edward Cullen didn't chase girls; they came after him.

He'd changed his stance on the apology. Maybe he yelled at her to begin with but she was the one wandering through his house, banging around while he was trying to sleep. He'd tried to talk to her calmly but she flat out ignored him. Mike had warned him she was a stuck up bitch and now he knew for sure. He'd nail her, fine, but there was no way he was getting involved with another manipulative soul-sucking woman.

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**Yikes! I wonder which Edward we'll see when Bella finally finds her courage to say hello...**

**Thanks for reading guys! See you next week. :)**


	4. Breathe, Bella

**I never think too much about clothes when writing... but locale? Yes, yes, yes. I've had Bella's house as my desktop the past two months. Go check out Summerside on my profile- including a picture of Edward at the bar. :)**

**Disclaimer in chapter 1.**

**Next update will be Friday, February 11th.**

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_February 2008_

Edward spotted the elusive Bella Swan the next day. Fascinated, he pretended to be absorbed with the hose and spraying down the back deck but watched her out of the corner of his eye. She stalled and puttered around her porch, glancing up at him every few seconds like a tiny groundhog peeping out of her hole. Lucky for him it was overcast today; otherwise she might see her shadow and scurry back inside for another two months. When she finally tiptoed down her porch steps he released the nozzle and threw his sponge in the bucket. Smiling, he turned to face her.

"Hello," she spoke first. She had a soft, sweet voice.

"Hey there. Need your house washed?" He swallowed, then cleared his throat, looking her up and down. She was barefoot again, in old, worn jeans that sat low on her hips and her little blue t-shirt fit in all the right places. Long shiny strands of hair floated around her face where the wind had coaxed them loose from a paintbrush she had stuck in the back. She was lovely. And kind of adorable… like now, when her nose was crinkled in confusion. "You know," he rushed to fill the silence, "since I already have the stuff out." He ran a hand through his hair, making the short ends stick up wildly.

Bella looked back at her house as if he was seeing something she didn't. "I spray it down every month or so but I don't use soap," she said, peering into the bucket. "Should I use soap?"

"It's a personal choice," he said vacantly. His eyes were glued to her legs, wondering how flexible she was.

"Um." She shook her head slightly and took a step back as if she wanted a do-over on the conversation. "I just wanted to say hello since we're neighbors and everything. I'm Bella. And you're Edward." Waiting a beat she hurried on, "I knew your uncle Peter. I've been here about three years… and… he was such a nice guy. A really, really nice guy." She wrung her hands. "And I'm so sorry about the other day, when I was there and… you didn't know I was… there. I woke you up and I never would have come over but your car was still across the street so I thought, I thought... I don't know."

He stared, really seeing her for the first time. She was shy and nervous, barely able to look him in the eye. There was a pause, and he realized she was waiting for a response.

"Bella, seriously, don't worry. I hardly remember it at all but I'm pretty sure I was a belligerent asshole." He began to coil the hose as a distraction from her body; abruptly realizing that 'belligerent asshole' might be an understatement because damn it, he should have known Mike would be a lying fucker about this girl. "I was practically sleepwalking, really, so it's me that owes the apology," he said, bending to catch her eye. "And thank you for the lasagna. I haven't eaten it yet but it looks great."

"Oh, yeah. Sure, no problem," she said, twisting the escaped hair around her finger. "I have stuff for a salad to go with it but I wasn't sure if you would eat it right away so I didn't bring that part over. But if you do- eat it soon, the lasagna I mean, I can get the salad to you. Yeah. Whenever." She squeezed her eyes shut and tugged almost violently on the strands she had looped around her hand.

"Okaaay," he laughed and reached to grab the hand in her hair. "Geez, don't cut off your circulation there. You might need that finger." Edward stroked the irritated place, smiling at the paint smeared on the inside of her wrist. "I can't believe I thought you didn't talk much," he said, almost to himself. He bit his lip to keep from grinning when she ducked her head. Amazing. Her face— her whole chest was pink. When his fingers brushed over her pulse, his breath caught; it was racing. A frisson of heat shot through him and he tilted his head toward the bar. "Come on. Come inside with me." He tugged the tips of her fingers. "Do you want a water or a coke or something? Beer?"

"Oh," she said in a small voice, gently removing her hand. "Um... no thanks. I need to get back. I left dinner on the stove, so...yeah. I should go."

"Sure. Another time then." He nodded and hastily shoved his hands in his pockets. She was spooked, that was plain to see; he shouldn't have touched her. Bella gave him a small smile, walking backwards a few steps before she turned and made a beeline for her house.

He watched her all the way home, amused but conflicted. She was just so... jumpy. Did he made her nervous or was she was just nervous in general? The way she held her body wavered between flight and a twitchy sort of defense, but then everything else about her seemed so innocent. Edward shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with how he'd acted before, especially the night he'd met her.

He bent and gathered the cleaning supplies blindly, his head spinning. So Mike was wrong about her. What a surprise. Whether it was unintentional or not didn't really matter; the fact remained… Bella was not a friend-with-benefits kind of girl.

Just as well. His focus should be on running this business; it'd be summer before he knew it and he'd really be in a world of hurt if he didn't have his shit together. Still… he felt an unexplainable pull toward this girl. For all the small town quirks that annoyed him about Summerside, there was no question that this place was more home to him than anywhere else. Now, somehow, in the space of about ten minutes, Bella had become part of that, sunshine and spring rain, everything good and wholesome and right.

All that translated to Edward's dick should stay in his pants. He'd be doing both of them a favor anyway. Besides, knowing his luck, if he did sleep with her she'd turn clingy and desperate, like some kind of Fatal Attraction whack job right next door. No thank you. And with all that blushing and stammering, either she had zero experience with men… unlikely… or she already had feelings for him.

Opening the door with his foot, he dumped everything on the floor as soon as he stepped inside. He sagged into the worn leather chair next to the pool table and pulled his feet up on the ottoman. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling mildly depressed. It was going to be hard to stay away from her to begin with… now, if she showed even the slightest bit of interest he'd never be able to resist her. Somebody was going to get their heart broken. Well, it sure as hell wasn't going to be him.

* * *

_March 2008_

Bella sat at the bar a few weeks later, tugging and twisting her hair again. It was a miracle she had any left. She'd been determined to avoid Edward and yet here she was, dropping by in the middle of the afternoon. All it took was his sweet thank you note for the lasagna and all of a sudden she was just...at his door. It was like her feet had suddenly overridden her brain. He didn't seem surprised to see her and did the neighborly thing by inviting her inside.

She glanced around; they were alone in the house, the afternoon sun sliding across the mahogany counter, in and out as the cloud cover allowed.

"I don't want to impose," she mumbled, clutching the glass of lemonade he'd poured. She peeked up at him, biting her lip. If she'd forgotten why Edward Cullen was to be avoided at all costs she was reminded of it now. Everything about him made her stupid. Forget that he was the best looking thing she'd ever laid eyes on; the sheer force of his personality dazzled everyone that happened to cross his path. Including her. Especially her.

He held up a finger to show her he was doing inventory in his head. She nodded and sipped her drink, thinking about the night before, her face heating. She'd started having racy dreams about Edward. Being a heavy sleeper, dreams weren't usually in her normal nighttime lineup but the combination of cheap, smutty books and a cute neighbor must have been enough to dig up a few earth-shattering fantasies buried deep in her sub-conscience. What she lacked in practical experience she more than made up for with the giant box of Harlequin Romance novels under her bed. Not that she'd ever admit those actually belonged to her.

Edward finished counting glasses and glanced at her, bemused. "You are a massive amount of trouble, Swan," he said dryly. "I tried to hide but you saw me through the window."

"Funny." She smiled and he smiled back. A thrill ran through her, mixed with relief and apprehension at the thought of talking with him, making him smile, _everything._

"Hey." He reached over and tapped her fingers with his pen. "I came over to your house a few times to ask you to eat that lasagna with me. You never answered your door." He gently hooked his pinky with hers.

"Oh, the salad!" She said, horrified. "I'm so sorry. I told you I'd bring it when you asked and then you couldn't find me."

"No, it's alright, really. I'm not much of a salad guy. Just... where do you _go?" _His thumb caressed the soft curve of her palm, watching her closely, barely breathing. His mouth twitched when finally she shivered and pulled away.

_ "_I paint. Upstairs." She folded her hands together primly, absently rubbing where his thumb had been.

"Oh yeah, your stuff is in Angela's gallery? It's really great. You're crazy talented, you know."

"Thanks. That's very nice of you to say."

"So… you didn't hear me knock."

"Well," she laughed, a little shakily. "I play music a lot... and sometimes I... kinda ignore people when I paint. _O__nly _when I paint, of course. I'm not a complete jerk."

He couldn't help but catch her hand again and tug it toward him. "As long as it's everyone and not just me," he said, one corner of his mouth lifting in a crooked smile. Her eyes widened as he lifted her knuckles and dragged them across the coarse shadow on his chin, his other hand slipping down to her elbow. Turning her arm up he brushed an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her wrist and held still, waiting.

She sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering closed in an instinctive defense. Her heart had already been going double time ever since she'd sat down on the stool in front of him; now there was a good chance she might expire right there on the spot, either from the crazed jackhammering in her chest or from being pronounced brain dead from lack of oxygen. A gush of warm air bathed her wrist as he flicked the wet tip of his tongue over her pulse point. Opening her eyes, she found him watching, green and glittering, confident. He knew what he did to her. She felt faint and panic spiked through her chest so fast she thought she'd imagined it.

"Breathe, Bella," he said softly.

Edward kissed her palm then quickly pushed her hand back, sighing when he released her. She caught a strange flash of tenderness in his eyes before he dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. He paused, and she sensed some kind of struggle going on inside him before he deliberately turned away.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" He said it as if he hoped she didn't and got busy rifling through the pages on his clipboard. Her heart still hammered as she stared at his back, coldness taking the place of the white hot burn that had just sped through her veins.

_ Oh god, what just happened?_

"Thanks, but I can't," she managed to get out.

He granted a polite smile and turned away. "Okay, then."

Her mouth fell open. And _there_ was that subtle cue to get the hell out. What did she expect exactly, after almost passing out from a simple touch on the hand?

Forcing a smile she hopped off the barstool. "Thanks for the drink, Edward," she said quietly, doing a fast blink to hold back the tears when all he did was grunt at her from the floor behind the counter. She hurried out the door and jogged home like she'd just remembered she had something very important to do. Obviously this had been some sort of prospective date test and she had just failed miserably. She didn't know how to flirt or tease or do any of those things the heroines did in her dime store books. Well, maybe she did in theory but it was kind of hard to bat eyelashes when she was struggling with the basic function of staying conscious.

If anyone had asked her, Bella would have said that she was okay in the looks department. Well, if she was comparing herself to her sister then she fell way short. Still, guys wanted more than someone pretty; guys were attracted to confident girls, exciting girls, girls who didn't get embarrassed… or if they did, they didn't show it all over their face.

Bella stood in her kitchen wondering if she should go ahead and fix her dinner for one or finish her painting upstairs or maybe sit on the couch and turn on the TV; the same sorts of mundane things she'd done for more than three years. She didn't want to be boring but she didn't know what or how to change. Her hand still tingled where Edward had kissed her and she rubbed it on her shorts. It didn't help the fluttering in her stomach go away.

* * *

The flutters had all but disappeared by the time Bella stepped into her swimsuit for her morning swim. She set her folded towel on the porch rail and looked over at Edward's house. It was dark and quiet but she really didn't expect anything else; it was still early. She waded out into the surf, gasping at the cold shock of the water, aching for that feeling of weightlessness she'd only ever found in the ocean. The vast expanse of the water gave her perspective.

Sliding into a lazy backstroke, she went over 'The Do's and Don'ts of Edward Cullen' in her head.

Number One: He was way too hot for his own good and he knew it. _DON'T get tongue tied and stupid._

Number Two: No hard evidence yet but it looked like he was a player. That made him dangerous. _DO work on building some sort of resistance to the infamous Dazzle Effect. Particularly potent to one Bella Swan. When in doubt, total avoidance is preferable._

Number Three: He had skills, worldly knowledge, talent. Evidence experienced first hand. Bottom line, he knew how to do things to a girl, that much was painfully obvious. The playing ground was so one-sided it wasn't even funny. _DO realize that reading romance novels does not equal Real Experience._

She floated and followed the shades of pink across the sky. What was the purpose of holding and kissing her hand all the time? Why didn't he just ask her out? Wasn't that the usual order of things? But maybe he was messing with her. Maybe he'd already called up Mike Newton and had a good laugh about making shy little Bella lose her breath over a kiss on the wrist. She groaned and covered her stomach. Now she felt sick.

She swam a bit further to catch a pod of dolphins coming by. Well, a lot worse than Edward Cullen and Mike Newton had come into her life and she had survived. He couldn't play his silly games with her if she didn't participate. She smiled at the dolphins; they didn't judge anyone. They were simply curious. One of the females nudged her and she laughed out loud. After a few minutes they were on their way and Bella decided to head home as well. A strong currant was making itself known and she wasn't in the mood to fight; her arms and legs felt too heavy and the cold was getting to her. She swam parallel to the shore for a while; just to make sure she was in the clear.

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**Thanks for reading! See you next week...**


	5. Chocolate for Breakfast

**I wrote an E/B one-shot for the Fic A Pic Contest if you're interested. If nothing else, go take a look at the picture everyone used for inspiration... mmmm**

**Disclaimer in chapter 1. Any mistakes you find are mine... if you find something glaring I'd love for you to tell me.**

**Next update will be Friday, February 18th.**

**Happy Valentine's Day!**

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_April 2008_

Did this look like what she thought it looked like? Bella shifted on her feet, going so far as to plaster her ear against Edward's door to determine if he was up or not. She hesitated to knock again. Ten o'clock in the morning was past time for anyone to be awake in her opinion but then she didn't run a bar that stayed open until after midnight. Peter's key that Edward had never asked for hung on a hook in her kitchen, begging to be used. It was tempting but there was no way she was making _that_ mistake again.

_This would have been a good time to own a phone, Bella._ She sighed and looked down at her attempted gourmet muffins. The recipe had made so many and it was wasteful not to share, right? She and Edward had made good headway on the friend front so all this was just part of being neighborly. But what if it made things weird? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. They'd be fine if she put them in the freezer and ate them later, wouldn't they? He probably didn't even like muffins. And she definitely didn't want to get Edward out of bed for a breakfast he didn't like.

"Hello? Did you knock?"

Bella turned around from the bottom step and gaped at the pretty blonde in the doorway. She was dressed in a long t-shirt and stood shivering, bouncing on her toes. Her nipples stabbed through the fabric, most likely furious they weren't back in bed… or in Edward's hands… maybe his mouth… Ugh.

"Um, yeah." Bella didn't know what to say. For Edward to have company was the last thing she expected. _Braless_ company.

"Oh my god, are those muffins? Are those for Edward?"

Sorrow twisted in Bella's stomach, not an unfamiliar feeling but always surprising. She trotted back up the steps and placed the warm muffins in the girl's hands. Up close, Bella could see she was older through the faint traces of her makeup. Maybe he liked women with experience. That definitely ruled her out, Bella thought. Not that she was even in the running.

"Are you staying with Edward?" The hurt still swirled inside but she gave blonde nipple girl a reassuring smile. Maybe if she immersed herself in these little pain pricks of jealousy they'd lose their power.

Blondie pinched off muffin bits and crammed her mouth full. "Oh, well, not really. I'm renting 2A… the green cottage down a little ways? I had a bit, ah… too much to drink last night."

"Right." Bella nodded as if that had happened to her many times as well.

"I'm going through a divorce, you know. Edward has been such a sweetheart. Such a comfort."

Bella nodded again, eyes wide. She just bet Edward was a comfort. Blondie's comments reminded her of that funny way to read fortune cookies. _Edward has been such a sweetheart… IN BED!_

How rude would it be to just turn around and start walking home?

"I came downstairs, god, literally starving to _death_. Can you believe that all he has to eat are a bunch of frozen casseroles? I was about to run across the street in my panties and grab a box of pop-tarts!" She squashed the muffins to her chest. "Darling, you are such a lifesaver!"

"Glad I could help," Bella said weakly. "I really should go."

"Okay!" Blondie cooed and waved orange dragon nails. "See you around!"

But Bella didn't see her again. Blondie left Summerside when her rental time was up two days later. Bella saw Edward in passing but he never mentioned the muffins. And she never mentioned Blondie. It wasn't her business, anyway. But she wondered if Blondie had even told him that she had stopped by. Bella chose to think that maybe Miss Green Cottage 2A was just so overcome with grief from her divorce that she hid in a corner of the kitchen, stuffing her face like a pig, demolishing any and all traces of baked goods before Edward even woke up.

* * *

_May 2008_

"Well if it isn't my favorite neighbor."

"Hey Edward." Bella blew out a long breath. She'd expected to be cornered in the grocery store sooner or later. So it was time to put on her big girl panties and at least look him in the eye. He'd been nothing but friendly and to tell the truth, it was getting harder and harder to keep him at arm's length.

"You're blushing," he said with a chuckle turned serious. He scrubbed his hand over his chin and stared at her like she was something he wanted to devour.

"Am I?"

"What are you thinking about to make you blush like that?

"I don't know, Edward. I'm just trying to pick out some cereal."

"Hmm…" His 'hmm' sounded more like a groan. He draped himself over her cart and brushed her hot cheek with his thumb, grinning like an idiot. "So dark and mysterious. Fine, keep your secrets."

"Thank you, I will." On the outside Bella was cool and collected, just another shopper contemplating the many varieties of Captain Crunch. Inside, her soft-core porn Edward dream from last night was stuck on repeat. Especially the good parts. And… cue the raging blush.

"How is this even up for debate? Cocoa Puffs, hands down."

…_Right. Cereal. Focus, Bella focus._

"Ew. How can you eat chocolate for breakfast?"

"How can you not?"

"It just seems...wrong. Chocolate is a dessert thing." She frowned as she scanned the shelves; suddenly noticing just how many chocolate cereals actually existed. "Maybe I should get bagels."

"Wait, let me guess," he teased, "you buy bran flakes or some crap like that." He pawed through her cart.

"No, well- it's usually a toss up between Lucky Charms and Fruity Pebbles— Edward? What on earth are you looking for?" She bent over to see what he was doing with her groceries when his head popped up and suddenly they were eye-to-eye. Her heart thumped, frantic. His breath brushed across her face.

"You'll eat tiny, freeze dried, artificially flavored marshmallows for breakfast and you won't try chocolate cereal?" He leaned back and held his hand over his heart. "You wound me."

"You make it sound like I've never really lived if I haven't had chocolate for breakfast."

"You said it, not me." He tweaked her nose and shoved a box of Cocoa Puffs in her hands. "Live a little, Swan. You need to broaden your horizons."

Mrs. Cope looked like she'd won the lottery when she saw them walking together to the checkout counter. She even clapped her hands. Great, Bella thought, the red may as well be permanently tattooed to her skin. She paid for the groceries and hurried outside but it didn't take long for Edward to catch up. After she declined his offer to carry her bag, he unfolded the newspaper he'd bought and proceeded to walk and read at the same time.

Bella tugged her ponytail and watched him, wondering if he realized they were almost to her house. Should she invite him in for a glass of iced tea? What kind of message would that send? She jumped when he cursed loudly and stopped in the middle of the road over something he found in the paper.

"What?" She stared at him.

He walked the rest of the way to her door and collapsed on the steps. "A friend of mine," he explained, waving the front page at her. "Well, I haven't talked to him in a few years but we used to be good friends." His eyes bored through the paper as if changing the content were only a matter of willpower.

She sat down beside him and read over his shoulder.

**_Beloved Florida Football Star Pleads Guilty to DUI Manslaughter_**

**_University of Florida All-American Emmett McCarty pled guilty yesterday to charges of manslaughter while driving under the influence. McCarty was charged last month with killing a family of four while driving drunk after a night out at a Miami nightspot. McCarty's blood-alcohol level after the crash was .127, well above Florida's legal limit of .08, according to the results of a blood test._**

**_There is no official statement on how McCarty's sentence will affect his seven-year, $35 million contract with the Seattle Seahawks. Emmett McCarty was chosen second in the 2006 NFL draft, the highest ever for an offensive lineman. Neither Seattle nor representatives for Mr. McCarty were available for comment at this time. McCarty faces up to 20 years in prison._**

**_cont'd on A3. See McCarty_**

"You know him? Emmett McCarty?"

Edward exhaled. "Yeah. And contrary to how this article sounds he's a great guy. One of the nicest guys actually." He dropped his head in his hands. "Well, when I knew him he was."

"Wow, I'm really sorry. I remember seeing him on TV when he was up for the Heisman. That poor family," she murmured. "It's amazing how one bad decision can affect so many."

"One extremely stupid, fucked up decision. God, Emmett. Stupid, stupid, stupid," he bit out. "Whatever." Crumpling the paper in frustration his gaze shifted to hers. "Hey."

"Hey what?"

"Bella," he sighed, "I'm tired of trying to stay away from you."

She gave him a bewildered look. "Okay?"

"You should give me your phone number."

"Oh. Well-"

"Things like the whole you-missing-the-lasagna-dinner could have been avoided. Assuming you answer your phone more than your door." He gazed at her expectantly, frowning at her blank look.

"Wait, where is this coming from all of a sudden?" she asked. "And you're assuming I even have a phone."

"You don't have a phone?"

"I had one of those paid cell phones for three years or so but I threw it away."

"You're telling me you don't have a landline _or_ a cell phone?" he grated out. "Who doesn't have a _fucking __phone?"_

"Shut up, Edward! Don't talk to me like that," she snapped. "I just don't need one around here." She folded her arms across her chest. He was like Jeckell and Hyde. What was his problem?

"It's dangerous not to have a phone anywhere, _Bella,"_ he said, dragging her name out as if he were addressing a two-year old.

Her eyes narrowed. "Look, Edward. I don't owe any explanation to you, but not once did I use that stupid cell phone," she hissed. "It was money wasted."

"Right, like I believe that. Nobody called you in three years? You didn't call anybody at all?"

The pain absolutely blindsided her. "Fuck you." She grabbed her groceries and jumped up to go inside. She vaguely registered the small satisfaction of slamming the door.

"_Damn it!" _He roared, smacking the paper against the side of the house.

* * *

She ran upstairs and threw herself on the bed. Why was it so difficult to be friends with him? Sure, it had taken her a while to loosen up but she was finally remembering what it was like to have a friend. It was nice. Really nice. For the first time in forever, she'd found someone that seemed interested in things she had to say. Not with an ulterior motive, not as a way to get to her older sister, and not just to be polite.

Ever since that blonde muffin mooch answered his door Bella had truly understood that she shouldn't waste energy worrying about him flirting. That was just his personality. Besides, timid little brunettes with perpetual paint under their fingernails weren't his type at all (whose type were they?); Blondie had driven that message home more than adequately. And while that uncultivated romantic part of her mourned, generally it was reassuring that friendship was all he wanted from her since it was all she knew how to give. And now even that was in jeopardy. The urge to run and apologize for not having a stupid phone was fierce but that was wrong, wasn't it? Was this really about a phone?

Soft knocking at the door prompted her to come out of her room and hover at the top of the stairs. She willed her emotional side to get a grip and wait it out. Trying to be friends with him was so nerve wracking. She sat on the top step and leaned her head against the banister.

Sooner than she would have thought Edward stopped knocking and she heard him walk back down the porch steps. Bella stared down from her second floor, irritated that she wasn't worth more than twenty measly seconds of knocking. She brushed her wrist across her lips. The same wrist he had kissed a few weeks ago. The dread that he was angry with her sat cold and greasy in her stomach. It was because she was so difficult, wasn't it? Her stupid issues sucked but trying to control her fears was like trying to catch rain in a spaghetti strainer. But why was she surprised? When had she ever been normal like other girls?

Annoyed, she sprung up and pounded down the stairs, the urge to simply run away from her shortcomings simply overwhelming. When she tasted the salt of her own tears the latent rage inside her exploded. Was she really that desperate for a friend? For plenty of years she survived without anyone and she didn't cry, _ever_. What a silly, stupid little girl she was for allowing beautiful Edward Cullen to get under her skin. She almost hated him right then.

Bella flung open the door and yelped. Edward was on the top step looking just as surprised. Stumbling comically, she tripped over the threshold and fell right into his arms. She struggled but he clasped her to him tightly, threading his hand through her hair. Her nose was suddenly pressed against his throat and she inhaled hungrily, his scent sending tingles down to her toes. Oh god. He smelled _unbelievably_ good. Her senses reeled as she clung to him, his hair soft through her fingers, her lips against his collarbone. His hand burned her lower back as he held her against his body. She felt an inexplicable urge to lick him there on the curve of his neck to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. Not a good idea. Trembling, she tried to pull away but he held on.

"Bella," he said under his breath, his voice soft. "Wait."

She stilled in his arms. Oh god, _did_ she lick him? "W-what?" she managed, barely audible. She felt him draw a huge breath.

"I'm so sorry." The warmth of Edward's sigh as he breathed out traveled deliciously over the base of her neck and down her back. He allowed her to pull back this time but only just enough for their eyes to meet. "I took it out on you and I'm sorry." He stroked her cheek, wiping a trace of her angry tears away. The moment was almost too intimate.

She blinked and looked down, breaking their locked gaze. His response was to pull her close to his chest again, humming. A feeling of safety and security swept over her as she clutched his shirt in her hands. It'd been so long, so long since she'd been held. Her father used to hold her tight like this. Tears pricked her eyes again, aching for the smell of peppermint, the feel of the small colorful threads of his shoulder patch under her eight-year-old fingertips. _Daddy._ Her eyes slipped shut and she floated in the little bubble he created a few minutes more.

"Say something," Edward laughed nervously as he nosed the crown of her head, breathing in her hair. He shifted and she heard crinkling paper behind her head.

"What is that?" she turned a little in his embrace.

"Um," he laughed again and she felt it echo through her body. "I ran home to get paper so I could write a note to... well, to tell you some things. I keep messing up. I never seem to be able to say what I really mean when you're right in front of me."

"What things?" she asked the front of his shirt, wondering how anyone could possibly smell this good.

He was silent then pulled her down to the steps. "Sit with me," he mumbled. His breath tickled the loose hair next to her ear when he spoke. "Well, first I wanted to apologize." He started to say something else and hesitated.

"And second?" she whispered. A tendril of anxiety began to worm its way up her spine, the closeness to him nearly drowning her. She kept her head down. If she looked up at him now her nose would graze his raspy chin and then she would entirely too close to his-

"Look at me, Bella," Edward breathed as his hand moved gently in her hair, his thumb stroking the soft skin in front of her ear. She shook her head. He huffed a laugh and skimmed his nose up her jaw to where his thumb pressed gently. He tilted her head slightly and traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. "Stubborn," he whispered right before he nipped her earlobe.

A small sound escaped low in her throat and she felt him smile against her neck. Oh, god, the trembling. She was surprised her teeth weren't chattering. The emotion she had beat down for so long was bursting out in so many places all she could do at this point was scramble for damage control. Oh, but his lips, the hint of his tongue, his hot breath were doing things to her neck and this crazy sensitive spot behind her ear. Dizzy, she was dizzy.

Fear bloomed in her chest and her stomach flipped crazily. What was he doing to her? There was tingling between her legs and the center of her panties was slick and slippery. No matter how good it felt for him to hold her close she wasn't ready, wasn't ready, would never be ready for this—for _more._ She wasn't who he thought she was, she wasn't some cute, flirty girl in one of those books she didn't have under her bed, she wouldn't be able to do the things he'd want to do. Shame stirred thick and murky, hand in hand with her arousal, raising its head from the dark corners of her heart. Edward could never know about that vile black part of her, she would _die_ before he knew. She just wanted to be _friends__,_ damn it! A scream was clawing up her throat but her air was gone; she had no breath to let it out. _Oh god, breathe! Let me go!_

"Edward..." she mouthed, no air to fuel her voice. "Edward, _stop."_ She managed a whisper that time and floundered weakly. He slid his lips away from her neck but didn't let her go.

"Shhhh..." he soothed. "Tell me what's wrong," he murmured as he dropped his forehead to her shoulder. He shifted and pulled her into the vee of his legs, her back to his front, cradling her as if he were afraid she'd try to run away. "Shhhh, it's alright. Just let me hold you for a minute. You're okay," he spoke in low tones as he rubbed her back. She struggled further and this time he let her rock forward and pull away.

Bella trembled and wheezed, trying not to think about what she needed to say to explain. The embarrassment was epic. She focused on the pulse of the ocean and slowly got her breathing under control, forcing herself to deconstruct what had just happened rationally, logically. This was different. Being close to Edward like this was different than any other boy, she reminded herself, it was different in a _good_ way. But having a freak-out in broad daylight had never happened before; they usually accompanied her nightmares. And it had been a while since she'd had nightmares like that.

"Bella?" He put a tentative hand on her back and she flinched. He drew back and rubbed his thighs restlessly, reminding her that she was still tucked between his legs. She should let him off the hook. She was nothing like Blonde Nipple Girl and never would be. Anyone else could do a casual fling, but things would only get messy and awkward if she truly opened her heart. She wouldn't do that to him, or to herself. Gloominess settled on her shoulders as she turned slowly, trying to pinpoint his mood so she would know what was best to say. He looked worried and a bit insecure.

"I'm fine." Bella met his eyes with a watery smile. "Please don't think it's your fault that I have... issues or whatever. It's just... um, I get weird sometimes. Surprise, huh?" She laughed weakly and gestured in the air like the cosmos had just decided to give poor Bella an extra dose of strange on a whim. "That was nice, you know, when you hugged me and… everything, but," she gulped and gathered her courage, "we should probably just be good friends." She lifted her chin and forced herself to hold his gaze.

The way he studied her was almost invasive. "Why?" he asked in a strained voice, the muscles in his jaw clenched. When she fidgeted and kept quiet he looked away toward the water, shivering despite the sunshine. After a long stretch of silence he turned back to her and smiled tightly. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Sure. I've never really had a girl that was just a friend before. This will be good. I'm a good friend, Swan, you'll see." He gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Okay." Why was she disappointed that he was going to let this go? She would never in a million years understand herself.

"Well, _friend__,_ I have a favor to ask," he smiled. "Friends do favors for each other, you know that, right?" He moved to get up, holding out his hand to help her too.

Bella stood and then he tugged her into a loose embrace, kissing her on the forehead. "Friends," he affirmed. He let her go almost immediately.

"Friends," she nodded. "Edward, thank you."

His shoulders slumped but when he smiled it covered his whole face.

"What's the favor? Should I be worried?" she teased.

"Come next door with me." He walked backwards, crooking his finger at her. "Come on. I'll tell you over a drink."

* * *

**Hmm. Friendship. This will be good for Edward, you'll see. Good... but not easy. ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Summer

**Don't you love Fridays? Many thanks to the lovely susayq who's agreed to beta this monster.**

**Disclaimer in chapter 1. Any mistakes you find are mine... notorious fiddler = me.**

**Next update will be Friday, February 25th.**

**This chapter covers several months but picks up right where we left off, when Edward asks Bella for a favor.**

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Bella would've had a hard time defining her current emotional state had anyone asked. She'd run the complete gamut of human emotion in about ten minutes and was now simply floating in emotional exhaustion. Romance with Edward was now officially off the table. Thank goodness.

_Hypocrite._

Her new official friend capered behind his bar whistling and trying to impress her by twirling glasses. In typical mercurial Edward fashion, now he was acting as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"I won't feel bad for you when you break that." She perched on a barstool, one leg under her, the other swinging back and forth. It was surprisingly easy to fall into this banter or whatever it was they had going.

He tilted his head. "You're supposed to be oohing and ahhing. Hasn't anyone schooled you on friend etiquette?"

"Evidentially not," she murmured with an inscrutable look. "You're stalling. What do you need?"

He put on his innocent face.

Wide shoulders filled her line of vision as he fussed with cocktail napkins. The stack was fanned out and straightened two times before he said, "I need to pack up Uncle Pete's bedroom."

"Oh." Well, that wasn't what she had expected to hear.

"I know you were close to him." He shrugged, smiling wretchedly, "I just don't want to do it by myself."

"Of course," she assured him, softly. "I'll do whatever you need." Telling Edward about her history with Peter was something she had thought about but when presented with the perfect opportunity she wasn't sure at all. "Edward?" He turned around and caught her watching him. "Did you know I was with your uncle when he died?"

The blood drained from his face as he stilled, staring at her for several long seconds. "Ah, no. I didn't," he finally said in a low tone. "I'd always wondered but I never asked... you know. Exactly how it happened."

Bracing his arms on the bar, he lowered his head. He wiped his face surreptitiously on his shirtsleeve before he lifted his head. For a moment he looked so deeply into her that she felt the shock of being truly seen. She dropped her eyes, rattled.

"Tell me," he whispered.

* * *

Edward made a quick fizzy lemonade with a shot of grenadine that she stirred but didn't drink. The bubbles broke and fractured and danced in the glass while she thought of how to start. She tried to smile.

"Okay, well, it was late morning." Bella's eyebrows pulled down, furrowed. "I knew Peter had just gotten a supply delivery so I baked some cookies for him to eat while he sorted through everything." She reached out to touch his arm, drawing back at the last minute. "I did that sometimes, I did things for him when he'd let me…" She breathed deeply. "I was actually at the door about to knock- and then I heard a crash. I thought, maybe he dropped a box or something and I was thinking of the mess we'd have to clean up but... It wasn't a box." She peeked at Edward, wishing she could tell what he was thinking but he seemed so closed off, staring out the window.

"He was, um," she closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, "he was on the floor. He _did_ drop a box- and knocked over one of those heavy tables too, but... I ran over to him and I told him to hold on... a-and I looked for the phone and he had the cordless right there so I called 911 but you know, the call goes to Bay Breeze which is a whole 45 minutes away, so I told them the information and said I had to go."

Bella sniffled and locked eyes with Edward; her mouth trembled as if it didn't want to take part in the rest of the story. "He was awake and looking at me. I _thought_ it might be a heart attack but I wasn't sure- he was holding his arm and not his chest. So I called Shelley because I didn't know Dr. Newton's number. And then I p-put my hand over his hand. I wanted to _hold_ his hand but he was holding his _arm__,_ really tightly and so I… and so I told him that Dr. Newton was coming right away, and that he was going to be just fine."

Edward's back stiffened and he closed his eyes. "Was he in a lot of pain?" he asked, speaking upward, into the rafters.

"I think he _was_ in pain... but right before he... well, I must have looked upset because he s-smiled at me and patted my hand." Bella winced and swallowed tears. "And he looked at me and whispered, 'Shhhh...' and _winked. _He actually winked at me. Can you believe that?" They traded weak smiles, and laughed when Bella hiccupped.

"That sounds just like him."

"I held his hand and then he just closed his eyes." She buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god," she breathed through her fingers. Edward hesitated but then touched her head, the dark silk of her hair slippery in his fingers.

"Thank you. I'm glad you were there." He let his hand slide off to the counter. "That you were with him, I mean. And thanks for telling me. I know it was hard." He ached to pull her into his arms but the bar separated them. There were little curls to the ends of her hair he'd noticed that were slowly driving him crazy. She picked at her thumbnail, looking small and lost as they breathed in awkward silence. In spite of his grief Edward was amused at the tiny hiccups that surprised her every few seconds. He took a drink of the lemonade and poured her a glass of water.

"Thanks." Bella wrapped her arms around herself and scowled as another hiccup caught her off guard. "I hate to make you sad and run but I should go."

Edward appeared lost in his thoughts but came around the bar to walk her out. Before she knew it he had scooped her up and hugged her so hard her back popped. They both laughed. Bella leaned back and marveled at the carefree happiness in his face, suddenly feeling it too. She hadn't realized how heavy the weight of not telling Edward about his uncle's death had been until it was lifted. Hugging him back, she kissed his cheek impulsively.

"Friend, you're killing me," he said with a playful smile, not letting her go. The sensation of soft curvy Bella warm in his arms was one he wasn't ready to give up just yet. He nuzzled her hairline and wondered if she knew the scope of what she'd given him. "You don't know the horrible things I imagined," he rasped in her ear. "He wasn't alone. God, Bella. That means the world to me." When he finally let her out of his arms she lingered and squeezed his hand.

"Bye, Edward."

"Bye." He watched as she walked across to her house, feeling the sting as his heart left with her.

* * *

_June 2008_

She smoothed her hand over the blank page in her lap, enjoying the nighttime summer air through the open window. The sunlight lamp she had clamped to the back of her bed lit the room in a slight golden hue. She liked it better than the cold, blue-green of fluorescent lights. She didn't usually draw in bed; it made her lazy. But tonight it felt different. She wanted to draw _him_; she wanted to draw Edward. Her heart beat faster as she planned it in her mind. It would be like revealing a secret, tangible, as sure as whispering out loud what she felt for him in someone's ear. On the paper it would be _real_.

She moved with slow strokes in the beginning but soon lost herself in the energetic lines of his hair, the strong shadow of his jaw. He was pensive and turned a little to the side, as if contemplating something profound or mysterious off in the distance. She wondered what her Edward on the page was thinking. Here in the quiet solitude of her bedroom she could admit she was falling hard. Love… the emotions were so strong and overwhelming; that had to be what it was. Now that she had stopped fighting the giddiness that flipped her stomach whenever she saw him or the way her heart pounded when he smiled, she'd been so much more at peace. It wasn't as if anything was going to happen because he was never going to know about it. There were places inside her that just didn't work; she'd understood that long ago. That's why it was so easy. The past would haunt her the rest of her life and Edward didn't deserve that burden. He deserved someone happy and whole, or at least someone honest and good on the inside. She would never have Edward but she had this. She gazed down at her finished drawing. This portrait, this beautiful likeness of him was hers. It was enough.

* * *

_July 2008_

Bella didn't really drink but that wasn't a hard and fast rule. Occasionally she had a glass of wine, and more rarely, a margarita. On a typical summer night she would start off at a back table with a pencil and sketchbook, drawing the people around her while she nursed a glass of lemonade… until Edward got agitated enough to maneuver her up to the bar.

"Hey, Jake." Edward drummed his fingers on the bar and lifted his chin at the college kid he'd hired to work during the summers. "I'm gonna walk a bit. Make sure everyone's doing alright."

"No prob, bossman" Jake's eyes automatically went to Bella and hid a smile. Sure enough, some guy was leaning over her table, practically peeing on her leg. Her little pencil and paper was an easy conversation starter and guys took advantage. She sent most packing with just a look but there was always that one who could never take a hint. He chuckled and watched Edward head straight for her table. He was such an open book when it came to that girl.

Edward casually walked up and introduced himself to the idiot hitting on Bella, clapped him on the back and gave him a drink on the house. The guy always made it back to his friends able to save face but quite clear on staying away from the pretty brunette in the corner.

"How are the margaritas tonight?"

"Wonderful." She held his gaze. "As always. Thank you."

"Why don't you come up to the bar and sit a while so I can keep an eye on you."

She smiled.

Soon, Bella began heading straight to her personally reserved seat at the end of the bar when she came over, but not solely for Edward's peace of mind. She could handle random guys chatting her up once in a blue moon; that was nothing compared to the floozies at the bar that poured their tits out over their cocktail napkins, licking their lips and pouting for Sex on the Beach. She amused herself by choosing the most annoying of the women sidled up to the counter that night to sketch, adding buck teeth, a horrible complexion or maybe a grotesque lazy eye as a finishing touch. One time Edward came around and looked over her shoulder, laughing loudly before snagging her pencil and adding a set of devil horns to her paper and a quick kiss to the crown of her head. He always made a point to pull her into his little private jokes whenever the night crowd rolled in, flirting with her, putting on a show; protecting himself from the cougars, he'd say. Bella became practiced in the art of ignoring scowls from the boozed up suntan set when the connection between the golden boy bartender and the quiet dark-haired girl at the end grew to be obvious as the night rolled on.

It wasn't easy to define their relationship. His light touches and glances were completely platonic but once in a while she would catch a sad sort of yearning in his face before he looked away. One time she caught him staring at her with such a heated intensity her heart practically vaulted out of her chest. She thought she must have imagined it because the very next second he was grinning at her goofily and pelting her with peanuts. But still, imagined or not, she horded those glances from him and pulled them out late at night, pretending they were real, trying to remember at what point he had begun to make her feel everything so deeply.

* * *

_August 2008_

Edward snatched his cap from the hook inside the door and bounded outside. "Hold up—" he called to Bella as she bent down to look at a piece of shell. "I'll come with you."

They walked, nodding and smiling to the renters as they moseyed around the porches of their pastel beach cottages. When there was nothing but dunes and sea grass and sunset she spanked him lightly with the stick she'd picked up to get his attention.

"Will you get bored when the off season rolls around? You might have seen when you first got here but it can be pretty slow."

"Will you?" He eyed the stick but she quickly switched it to her other hand.

"Get bored? No. I can always find something to paint. Painting is like traveling… a little mini vacation. Sometimes I lose hours… forget everything. I even forget to eat."

"I know what that's like." He smiled when Bella wrinkled her nose. "You forget I'm a writer. It's only recently that I've stumbled into my profession of tending bar."

"Oh, I know but… you're that kind of writer?"

He laughed. _"That_ kind of writer. Well, I haven't produced anything publishable as of yet so it may be too soon to claim that I'm _any _kind of writer."

She twirled the stick and popped him on the back of the knees, edging away when she saw the look in his eyes. "So," she said, sparkling at him, "you're working on the next great American novel?"

"Maybe—" he said, grunting as he lunged. A quick game of keep-away ended when Bella sacrificed her stick to the water.

"There." She dusted her hands off. "Now no one has it."

"What, are you four?"

"Maybe," she laughed, throwing his word back at him.

They turned back home and watched their muted shadows stretch out in front, gliding over the surf and sand crabs.

"So tell me a secret. Something no one else knows about you." Edward said suddenly.

She pulled in a jerky breath. After an uneven pause she said, "I tried Cocoa Pebbles last week. I liked them, a lot."

"Yeah?" He brightened. "I converted you. You owe me for showing you the error of your ways." He nudged her shoulder when she smiled and shook her head. "Seriously, though."

"What? I'm really not interesting. I drink coffee black, two Splendas," she groused, her good mood fading with the sun.

"Fine, stubborn, I'll start." He looked fairly entertained, a slight smile dancing on his lips. "When my mom knew she was going to die, she told me that she was going to be a mermaid once she got to heaven. We read mermaid books with all these beautiful paintings and she told me that she'd be able to watch me grow up through the bubbles in the water. Because they were magic. And to think of her whenever I was near the ocean." He blew out a long breath.

"Um, wow. That's… well, it's nice that you were able to say goodbye." She tugged her hair, openly restless, distressed.

"You're stalling, Swan."

"Okay." Her voice was almost carried away with the wind off the water. "I don't have anything as beautiful as that to say but… One weekend my mom took my sister to some mother-daughter thing and I stayed home with my dad. We made pancakes and I dared him to flip them using just the pan- you know, without a spatula, like in the movies? Anyway, the first couple of tries nothing really happened so when he finally put some muscle behind it he flipped them onto the ceiling. And they stuck." She was smiling again.

"No way," he laughed. "Was your mom mad?"

"Oh, we never told her. We never told anyone. It was our secret. We giggled literally until we cried and then he took me out to McDonald's. It might be my favorite morning, ever."

"That's a great story. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

She stuck her tongue out. "I need to find another stick."

* * *

_September 2008_

Bella paced, randomly tapping different areas of her last canvas even though it needed a few more days to dry. Where was he? On the last Friday of every month Edward always helped her cart a handful of paintings over to Angela's gallery. She'd had a good summer; there were only a couple of her paintings left that hadn't flown out the door. Crowds had lightened up now that it was almost October and school was back in, but the rental cottages were far from empty. Plus, the snowbirds would be trickling in as the weather turned colder. Snowbirds always had money to spend.

The sand-sun glare hit her in the face and she pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head. She settled down and straightened her legs out. If he'd forgotten he might see her sitting on the porch and remember. Bella's favorite part of the last Friday of the month was watching his face as he looked over her new paintings. He was always full of praise and thoughtful comments about color choices or the feelings a particular piece evoked. Sometimes she asked for constructive criticism and he was always honest. That was something she appreciated.

She was antsy, bobbing her knees up and down. She jumped up to grab a bottle of water inside, amusing herself, after a few sips, with how fast a few drops could evaporate on the wood of her steps. There were six large canvases this time so she definitely needed him. The water bottle creaked and crunched as she squeezed it, in out, in out. When he finally appeared at the back of his house she acted like she didn't notice him but grinned at her knees like a loon. She should have known he wouldn't forget.

"What's so funny?" Edward called as he walked over, pulling his baseball cap down to shade his eyes.

"Nothing." She squinted up at him. Oh, he was so beautiful, perfect, so _everything _and all things wonderful. Her head had been warning her for a while about the dangers of letting Edward become her whole world but her heart lived and loved in the moment. It felt so good to be with him she was powerless to curb her desire to soak up every moment she could get her hands on.

"I'll let that go for now but only because I want to see what you've got there." He held his hands out and wiggled his fingers. "Hand over the paintings, Swan. I've been waiting all month."

Bella couldn't control it. She beamed and reveled in his attention. She was so in love with Edward Cullen.

* * *

**There. A little breather. But don't get complacent.**

**I love hearing what you think! Thanks for reading :)**


	7. Fever Dreams

**Lots of love to susayq who makes time for me and my little story.**

**Disclaimer in chapter 1. Any mistakes you find are mine... **

**Next update will be Friday, March 4th.**

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_October 2008_

Bella closed her laptop with a sigh. She needed to renew her business certification but the automated form on the website had recognized that her driver's license was expired. So that meant she had to head over to the county DMV to renew her driver's license if she wanted to get paid. Never mind that she didn't even have a car to drive to go with a license.

She sighed and rubbed her temples while staring vacantly out the window, hating complications in general. The little life she'd built in Summerside was pretty simple, ordinary, and she liked it that way. Dave Matthews sang about long black veils in the kitchen as she watched the sun dapple through her window, the warmth tinged red from filtering through the towel drying on the porch. Tilting her head, she considered. It was only mid morning and the October days were nice and cool; it would be good to get out for a bit. She hopped up and ran to rattle around in the silverware drawer for a knife, grabbing the bread and peanut butter.

Later, as she stuffed the sandwich in her backpack, she thought of Edward curled up in bed, all warm and soft, his skin both scratchy and smooth at the same time. He wouldn't have minded driving her over there but she didn't want to bother him. Bartenders hardly kept morning hours.

* * *

A couple of hours later she was wishing she _had_ dragged Edward out of bed just so he could experience the fascinating train-wreck that was the DMV Lady. Her eye shadow was the same shade of blue Bella had used as a watercolor wash in a painting this morning. _And _she was a Talker. Bella wondered if her jaw ever got sore. In addition to that, she was annihilating an unfortunate piece of cinnamon gum. Her jaw muscles must be freakishly strong, their endurance built up over years and years of training, if gum chewing were an Olympic sport she definitely would have won the-

"Miss Swan? Honey, where'd you go?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry. Could you repeat-"

"I _said_," DMV lady cracked her gum, "that you have the same birthday as my son. Isn't that something?"

Bella smiled and shrugged.

She moved her mouse out of the way so she could lean over the desk. "Woo boy, I'll just _bet_ you had a wild night, a pretty thing like you! What I wouldn't give to turn 21 again. Oh my Lord! All I can say is, thank goodness those digital cameras weren't popular back then or I'd have been up on somebody's FaceBlog page in a heartbeat!" DMV gleefully clapped her hands together and held them in front of her nose like they were folded in prayer.

Bella bit her lip. "You mean FaceBook?" She didn't point out that she had actually just turned 22, not 21.

"FaceBook! Isn't that what I said?" She smiled and tapped her lips with her fountain pen. "Well, happy birthday hon. I hope it was wonderful. As cute as you are I'm sure you had plenty of fellas chomping at the bit to buy you a drink."

Bella squirmed and swallowed hard, wanting to tell DMV Lady just how wild her 21st birthday actually was. How it was a crazy night full of frozen pizza, a Pride and Prejudice marathon and nothing in her mailbox but a furniture store flyer. And even that was generic, addressed to 'resident'. But all she did was ask politely, "Am I finished?"

* * *

Back on her bike, Bella waited until she had tuned the corner before she allowed everything to crash open, knowing the sheer emotion would threaten to drag her under. She couldn't remember the last time someone had told her 'happy birthday'. The urge to laugh hysterically was strong so she pushed the pedals faster and faster, as if she could leave her feelings behind. She wondered how this had happened to her, this situation, this life. Somehow she'd turned into one of those pathetic Lifetime Movie characters with estranged family members and tragic secrets that always revealed themselves in the worst possible way about halfway through the story.

She knew how. It was her own choices… her own fault. She was closed off, unapproachable and distant. She wasn't like Jessica Newton or sweet Mrs. Cope, or even sweet Angela, quiet in her art gallery. Bella imagined what it would be like to be carefree, to not be afraid to say what she thought… what would they think?

_Mrs. Cope, don't feel bad about missing my birthday the last three years but well, it's September 13th and I just wanted you to know. Oh, no reason, my own mother doesn't even acknowledge my birthday so it's really not a big deal. I'm just tired of being in this fucking, never-ending Lifetime Movie. Yes, I know you love that channel but I really, really hate it._

On her 22nd birthday a few weeks ago she'd sat drinking her morning coffee and contemplated telling Edward but she just couldn't think of a good enough reason. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel obligated to do anything; bar life in September was still busy and there was no good reason to add to the stress. That was the official reason in her head. Her heart felt that if no one knew, then she didn't have to be disappointed when no one actually cared.

Still, to have DMV lady be the first person in years to wish her a happy birthday was depressing. So it was only fitting that a sudden rainstorm appeared out of nowhere and soaked her to the skin. Shivering, she kept pedaling and shoving her wet hair out of her face until finally she was home and parking her bike under the breezeway. She toed her wet shoes off on the porch and sneezed. Well, at least the rain was good for something. She wouldn't have to explain her stupid tears over something as trivial as a birthday. She unlocked her door to an empty house. As if there had ever been anyone to explain to.

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_November 2008_

Edward pulled his hair and stared at what felt like a zillion cans of soup. His pleading eyes cut to Shelley Cope as she walked up with hands on her hips and stood beside him.

"I don't know what to choose." Edward pouted.

"There aren't that many choices, hon. We aren't one of those big grocery stores," she said, amused.

"It needs to be _homemade."_ He crossed his arms. "I thought I could find chicken soup halfway done or something, and then I'd add stuff." At her blank look he said, "Add stuff, you know, vegetables and salt and pepper, _whatever_… to the soup. But maybe they don't make it like that here?"

"Come with me," Mrs. Cope ordered as she marched down the aisle toward the _Employees Only_ door in the back. His mouth fell open at the enormous computer setup tucked away in her little grocery store cubby-hole of an office, walls painted warm and friendly, shelves stuffed with knick-knacks. Faded black and white photographs covered the walls.

"Mrs. Cope!" Edward burst out laughing, "you've been holding out on me!"

"Get with it, honey. I'm old and I can have a big computer if I want to," she sniffed. "Besides, this extra large monitor comes in handy when I play bridge with my internet friends in Belgium." Her wrinkled hands flew over the keyboard and soon Edward was holding a full color print out recipe of homemade chicken soup.

"Awesome," he breathed before his eyes widened in alarm at the long list of ingredients.

"You'd be up the creek without a paddle if I turned you loose with that." Mrs. Cope looked at him over her half-moon glasses. "Come on sweetie. I'll get you started but you're going to need your elbow grease before it's all over." She snatched the recipe out of his hand and Edward blew out an undisguised sigh of relief.

"You tell that sweet girl I hope she feels better," she called out from the spice aisle.

"Who's that?" he teased then winced when he caught her eye. It was amazing how her stare could travel the length of a grocery store, even if it was a small one.

"Edward. You're not too old that I can't pop you."

"Fine." He pulled his cap down to hide the grin that split his face. "I'll tell her."

* * *

Bella sat obediently, bundled up on her own couch with a fragrant bowl of chicken soup warming her hands. More than two weeks had passed since she'd been caught in the rain on the way back from the DMV. Unfortunately, riding waterlogged for two hours in rapidly falling temperatures primed her body for a nasty cold, which then turned into pneumonia. While the fever that had accompanied the cold had been bad enough, the pneumonia had knocked her completely on her ass. Even now that the worst of the sickness was over thanks to antibiotics, Bella still found it a sheer effort to move around.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam rising from the bowl, still feeling slightly nauseated. The couch cushion dipped as Edward sat on the other end. Her poor dishtowel was being twisted and mangled between his hands as he waited for her to take a bite. She smiled to herself.

"Edward, it smells so good."

He nodded at her, poker-faced, as he clutched the towel. _Twist, twist, twist._

She would have laughed out loud, if she weren't afraid of coughing up a lung, at the comical look of relief on his face when she finally put the spoon in her mouth and moaned appreciatively for his benefit.

"Okay?" He laid his head back on the couch.

"More than okay. It's perfect. I can't believe you hoodwinked the whole town into cooking all that food for you when you first moved in." Her voice was weak and raspy so she poked his thigh with a fleecy toe to make her point, smiling when he caught her foot and pulled it into his lap. Surprisingly, her stomach began to settle after the first few spoonfuls and she was able to finish it all.

Edward eased the bowl from her hands when she started to droop, pleased with himself and his newfound culinary skills. Sitting back, he petted her feet and watched her doze. When did it happen, this all-consuming need to be near her all the time? Somehow she had become his first thought in the morning, his last thought at night and starred in all his dreams in-between. The girl had secrets though, secrets buried deep underneath those trust issues of hers, and that shy, self-effacing personality. It was a foregone conclusion that he would wait for her; he'd never been surer of anything else in his life. But he also knew that if he held her too tightly she'd slip right through his hands like water.

She shifted restlessly, and he hoped to God she wouldn't talk in her sleep again. He lifted his hands from her feet as she slowly curled her legs away with a little moan, burying herself in the seam of the couch.

"Shh," he tried in an even tone, waiting for her to settle before tucking the blanket back around her legs. The first time she had mumbled in her sleep more than a week ago he'd been delighted, eager to hear anything forbidden, even if it was only something small so he could tease her later. That was until she went fetal in the night, and her mumbles turned into whimpers and tears that tracked down her flushed cheeks. Her dry heat had scorched his hand when he thumbed her tear streaks away, and he moved up to palm her forehead. She hadn't stirred. He had jumped up to run a washcloth under the tap; that was what they did in the movies, anyway.

"What going on in there?" he'd whispered, dabbing until her hair was damp and curly at the temples before blowing lightly to cool her off. He almost squeaked when her eyes flew open, dark and dilated, and creepy as hell. Her eyes had rolled and then she tensed, fixing on something invisible behind him. When she spoke, his heart had lurched, afraid that she wasn't really dreaming, but remembering.

"Daddy?" Her eyes had searched empty space, voice high and thin. "Daddy?"

He'd stroked her cheek and thought about panicking… maybe calling Mrs. Cope. Bella had looked terrified, eyes darting, never settling. It didn't seem to matter that he'd spoken to her in soothing tones; she hadn't seemed to hear him even though she'd clutched his arm in a death grip.

"Daddy, please, you have to come," she'd sobbed. "Come with me. Daddy?"

Her fever dream had gotten worse before it was better and Edward had to coax her into taking more medicine, holding a glass of ice water as she drank. It'd been too soon according to the label on the bottle but he'd be damned if she hadn't needed something to stop… whatever this was. When she'd finally relaxed into deep sleep Edward had leaned back on the couch, staring, and wondering what he should do.

It happened two more times before her fever broke for good a few days later. Early on he'd told Jake to run the bar without him so he could stay with her through the worst of it, fully expecting her to resist or pitch a fit when he tried to help. But she'd been surprisingly docile, proving that she really _was _out of it. So he held her when she trembled and cried, knowing she wouldn't remember his arms, or how he hummed an old lullaby when she was restless, or when he covered them both with her quilt when she burned and shivered. When she pushed him away in her sleep he watched her from the chair across the room, every whimper and terrified plea tearing at something inside him until the rage at whatever had hurt her simmered in his gut, waiting.

* * *

_November 2008_

The warm snap was welcome because it was most likely the last one of the year. Bella relished the light breeze that kicked up her hair, not minding in the slightest that she had to keep tucking it behind her ear. She sorted through the mail that had piled up while she was sick, pulling the envelope with her new driver's license from the bottom of the stack.

"When were you going to tell me I missed your birthday?" Edward stood over her shoulder.

Bella caught her breath and flipped the DMV letter over. Unopened. "How did you—"?

"You have that temporary one in your wallet." He came around and leaned against the wooden railing, the bright blue of the ocean behind him. "You were asleep but I had to get your insurance card for the medicine, remember?"

"No," she sighed. Suddenly she sat up straight. "Oh crap, did I snore or anything? Or worse? I'm so embarrassed and I don't even know what I did."

Edward regarded her for a long moment then smiled. "Nah. That medicine totally knocked you out."

She exhaled. "So I didn't say anything weird?"

"Well," he rubbed his chin, "besides professing your undying love to me and promising to have my babies?" When her mouth dropped open he burst out laughing. "Kidding, Swan."

Her face was on fire even as she smiled a little. "You're a jerk. Messing with someone trying to recover from a debilitating illness is low, even for you."

Abruptly he pushed off the rail and swept the mail aside. Hauling her up, he folded her in his arms with a shaky sigh. "Bella," he rumbled in her ear, holding her tight, "what am I going to do with you?" He swayed back and forth and tucked her head under his chin.

She thought about pulling away for a moment, and then relaxed, settling against him, feeling herself go warm and blissful as he pressed his nose to her hairline. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she knew anything anymore, except for him. "I didn't think it was really that important," she murmured, wondering if they were still talking about her birthday. "I never want anyone to feel obligated to… I don't know."

"Everything about you is important to me. Even the unimportant stuff. And I'm not just anyone," he said earnestly, rubbing the back of her shoulder.

"I know you're not. I'm sorry."

He drew back and judged the sincerity in her eyes.

"Okay, fine. You have a reprieve. But only because you missed my birthday too."

The mood lightened but she had a feeling he wouldn't forget this.

"I found out the next day, jerk!" she said, deciding to play along. "And then I made you cupcakes!"

"Right. Those cupcakes saved your ass. I won't go so easy on you next year." He let her go and patted her cheek with a smirk. "So. Birthday dinner. Tonight. You, me, sunset, on the porch. Drinks are on the house." He smirked and vaulted over the rail onto the sand below, blowing her a kiss before he headed back home.

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**I usually post a teaser at A Different Forest on Mondays. Lots of fun over there! Link in my profile.**

**If you like to tweet you can find me primarycolors1**

**I love hearing what you think! And as always, thanks for reading :)**


	8. Negotiations

**Hugs and kisses to susayq. Thank you darlin'**

**Disclaimer in chapter 1. Any mistakes you find are mine...**

**This chapter is shorter so there'll be a mini update on Sunday, March 6th, with the next regular update on Friday the 11th.**

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_December 2008_

"Are you going home to Chicago to see your dad for Christmas?" Bella sat on the floor and plugged in a string of multicolored lights, frowning when only one-third of the strand decided to cooperate. "Huh. I thought that if one didn't work it wouldn't affect the rest. Stupid lights." Her legs stretched out in front of her as she leaned back on one hand, the other rubbing a tiny patch on her knee that she'd missed with her razor. "I give up," she sighed as she shoved the lights away with her foot.

"I'll get more," Edward murmured. He flipped through a notebook of handwritten recipes, pausing every once in a while to fold down a corner. "Hey, which one sounds better for the special? A Holly Berry… that's gin with raspberry… or a Crantini… which is exactly what it sounds like."

"Crantini."

Edward nodded and turned to the large chalkboard on the wall beside the bar. He made a show of rolling his shoulders and wiggling his fingers before he started to draw. Grinning, she brought a knee up to rest her chin and settled back to watch, fairly entertained as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. Her gaze slipped from the curve of his lips to the strong flutter in his throat and then, almost against her will, down to the sliver of underwear peeking out at the top of his jeans. She felt prickly and hot and forced herself to stare at the tops of her sensible shoes until she was sure he wouldn't notice her flush. By the time she raised her head he'd drawn and erased several pathetic attempts at a martini glass… and was now adorably frustrated.

"Did you hear my question?" She asked, as she bumped him out of the way.

"Yeah," Edward folded his arms, watching her fingers fly with the chalk. "How do you _do_ that?

She smiled shyly and finished with a flourish. "So. Chicago?"

"Are you staying here?"

"And where would I go?" She said wryly.

"Why are we talking in questions?"

"God, you're impossible. Edward, it's a simple answer. Yes or no."

"Let's do a little bartering. Negotiating," he said, watching her closely.

"Negotiate what exactly?"

"You know, the scoop. The lowdown. You want to know something about me… well, I want the same in return."

Bella stiffened, but made an effort to shrug her shoulders indifferently. She glanced toward the door out of the corner of her eye.

Edward chuckled. "No, no, no… you can't leave now." He lazed against the bar. "You promised you'd help with the decorations."

"Fine," she said, waving her hand for him to get on with it. "Since you inexplicably find me so interesting, by all means. Negotiate." The box of Christmas decorations suddenly needed her full attention. She stomped the four steps to the table so he would have no problem knowing exactly how much she hated being maneuvered. She faced him with arms crossed over her chest, her hip stuck out and a scowl on her face, the official posture of _Fuck You and the Horse You Rode in On. _"Just so you know," she said coldly, "you have no leverage. I could care less where or when you go or even if you go at all." She sat down with a huff.

Edward's eyebrows shot up, barely holding in a snort of laughter. "I love it when you get testy with me, Swan. You can pout all you want." He lurched in her direction with his arms out, a beach-dwelling Frankenstein. "There will be no escape," he droned.

Nothing. Not even a smile. He walked slowly to where she was trying her best to ignore him, noting the slump of her shoulders. "Come on," he said softly, watching her dig through the box. He nudged her foot with his own as he sat down. "Don't you trust me? I already know all the important things about you… favorite color… Stones or Beatles…" he leaned in close to whisper, "you have all that vodka under the kitchen sink…"

Bella's head flew up, mouth hanging open in a laughable "o".

Edward pressed his lips together to hold in his glee. "I know! A gallon, Swan? Really? And it's not even _good_ vodka either."

She finally smiled. "Shut up," she sighed.

"It's time to tell me all your secrets. I usually give about a six-month friendly grace period and you're way over that. The pancake story could only last so long," he teased, leaning back in his chair.

"I said it was fine. I don't mean to be so… secretive, I guess. So go ahead and ask." Her tone shifted from exasperated to something harder and she narrowed her eyes. "I get veto though."

Edward rubbed his chin and studied her. She was going to fight him, he could tell. "Okay. Just so you know, I never wanted it to be this clinical. Let me get you a drink… it's happy hour somewhere right?"

"No. Come on."

He sighed, frowning, trying to listen to all the things she wasn't saying. "I don't know; now I feel stupid," he said, tracing the grain on the table with a fingertip. He hadn't taken his eyes off her. "I was just wondering about your family and where they were… your parents, mostly. It sounded like you were really close to your dad."

She shrugged. "Charlie, my dad… he was a policeman. He was killed in the line of duty when I was eight. My mom Renee remarried when I was seventeen."

Bella's father…_killed._ He took a deep breath. Of course something like that had happened. Before he knew what he was doing he'd leaned forward and startled her by grabbing her hands.

"Hold on… you're not giving me very much to go on, Swan. Elaborate," he pressed, seeing too late the hostility that flashed in her eyes.

"Why? Are you writing your book?" She pried her fingers out of his grasp and backed away where he couldn't touch her. "Let me guess," she hissed. "You need a pitiful character with a tragic family history and you want to use me as your model."

"What? No!" he said immediately, appalled, waiting for her to see the sincerity in his face. But she'd closed her eyes, probably hoping he'd disappear or forget about this whole thing. He debated on whether to let it go but more than anything he just wanted her to talk to him.

"You think you have a tragic past?" he asked.

"Everyone has a past… don't they?" She tugged her hair, hiding her face from him. "What do you want from me, Edward?"

"I want to know you, Bella," he pushed, "_really_ know you. Maybe if you talk about-"

"But why?" She cut in, looking at him earnestly. "There's no good reason to bring all this up. Neither you nor anybody else can change what's already happened. Why can't we just keep moving forward?"

He reached for her hand again but she stayed out of reach. "I just— there are parts of you…" he shifted in his seat, raking his hand through his hair. Finally he sat up straighter and squared his shoulders. "Part of you is hurt. I don't know why or what happened but I don't think you've ever had a shoulder to cry on, and-"

"A shoulder-?" she said with an incredulous laugh, "I don't need a shoulder to cry on. The last thing I want is to drag all my crap out to let some rubbernecker satisfy their morbid curiosity about why timid little Bella can't function like a normal human being." She was slightly hunched as she held herself tight, like her heart would spill and leak all over the floor if she relaxed her arms.

"Is that what you think of me?" The flash of pain that crossed his face was gone in an instant. "Damn it, Bella, I can see what you're doing and it's not gonna work with me."

Her eyes blazed as she lifted her chin. "It's none of your business."

"It _is_ my business because I-" His eyes went wide as he abruptly stopped, clenching his fists. He shot out of his chair and stalked to the window, staring out at the water. "Why can't I touch you without you acting like something horrible will happen? You flinch whenever I get too close."

"I should have known all this was about something _you_ wanted."

"Bella…" he warned in a low voice, his anger gathering, hands fisting on the windowsill. It was an effort to keep still but he did, because if he turned around he might shake her 'til her teeth rattled.

"Fine, something happened but I can't talk about it, Edward. I _have_ never and _will_ never talk about it. Don't ask me to," Bella said, her tone freezing the air around them.

"When you were sick, you had nightmares that fucking broke my heart," Edward muttered, still gazing outside. "You talked in your sleep. You _cried_ in your sleep." He turned to meet her eyes. She looked taken aback at the anguish on his face. "You fought and kicked and cried for your dad and for someone named Rosie. You cried for help and… for someone to stop hurting you." He swallowed heavily. His chest ached. "Bella, please," he whispered, "I want to help you."

She stood so quickly her chair fell over. It felt like sawdust was in her mouth. Even if she'd wanted to speak she wouldn't have been able to_. Time to go._ Her head swam and for a moment she really thought she might throw her lunch up all over the nice hardwood floor. _Get out of there, Bella. Run. _She didn't want to cry in front of him, not Edward. If she started she might never stop.

Edward watched her with impassioned eyes but didn't move. It killed him to see her trembling, white as a sheet, eyes glazed. He was so over his head with this. Whatever her secrets were they were literally eating her alive. He was no psychiatrist but he knew that she needed to talk about it… whatever it was… or it would always be there, between her and him and any progress they could make. She backed away, escaping, alarm and panic rolling off her. God, he felt like a monster.

"Bella."

She came around to the sound of his voice; stumbling slightly and that seemed to clear her head. "Rosalie was my sister," she said, her hand gripping the doorknob like a lifeline. By the tremor in her voice he could tell she was about to cry.

Edward gulped and stayed very still. "Was?"

"I need time," she rasped, "please, I need time to think. To think about all of this."

He found his voice. "Whatever you need. I'm sorry."

Nodding slowly, she walked out in a daze. After the door closed Edward laid his head on the table, breathing deeply. After a minute he sat up, wondering when the table had gotten wet. Then he realized the wetness had come from him.

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**It just made more sense to end it there... A little more from Edward on Sunday.**

**If you like to tweet you can find me: primarycolors1**

**I love hearing what you think! And as always, thanks for reading :)**


	9. Birdhouse in My Soul

**Email Interlude**

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_from: Edward A Cullen (eacdriftwood at gmail. com)_

_to: Bella Swan (sunrisemermaid at gmail. com)_

_date: Wed, Dec 24, 2008 at 10:36 PM_

_subject: Merry Christmas!_

Bella,  
I'm so jealous of the weather down there. I'd forgotten how much of a pain in the ass all this snow could be. I'll be home the day after Christmas- on Friday. Let's have dinner, OK? I haven't had Mrs. Cope's pie yet, it's sitting in my fridge. I know for a fact that she made pecan for you and apple for me- so don't even think about using your key to steal mine. Because everybody knows apple is best. But I'll share if you come over.

I miss you, friend. I've been missing you for a while actually. I came to say goodbye but you must have had your music on extra loud or something. It's only been 2 days so maybe you haven't noticed I'm even gone? Kidding.

Not to get all girly on you but I know things have been funny between us since that day in the bar. We haven't really talked since then but I want you to know that I never wanted that to happen. I'm a pushy bastard, I know that, and I'll be good from now on. I promise. It's your life and it's not like we're dating or anything, so… well, I don't think you're avoiding me but just don't worry about me ambushing you again. If you ever want to talk though, you know where I live. (Now that I'm completely emasculated I need to go start a fistfight to feel like myself.)

I wish I were down there right now. My dad and Esme throw a party every Christmas Eve. In fact, I'm hiding right now. I think my body forgot how to wear a suit because my tie is killing me. You'd like it though; it has little mermaids all over it. I wore it because it reminded me of you and the beach and everything. Earlier I was talking with the bartender they hired (trading secrets); I think he's probably the only "real" person here. At the very least he's the most entertaining. Unless you count watching all the doctors and their wives swap around with each other. It just drives home the fact that I really don't belong in Chicago anymore. If I ever did.

Anyway, I made up a drink for you- one of those fruity cocktails you like. I named it Firefly. I'll make it for you when I come home.

I'm bored. Why don't you have a phone? It was hard to sleep last night without the ocean outside my window. I always had that problem whenever I came back from the summer when I was a kid. I'd just forgotten.

If I don't hear back from you I'm going to assume you don't check your email. If that's not the reason I don't want to know about it. So don't burst my bubble, Swan.

I'll see you soon. Don't forget about dinner. Bring your pecan pie too. I'm an equal opportunity sharer.

-E

P.S. Hey- It's A Wonderful Life is on channel 5 down there. And then on 8 they're playing A Christmas Story on a loop. I bet you're watching one of those, huh. I bet you're sitting on the couch with peppermint tea and striped socks. Yeah? The pink ones, right?

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_from: Edward A Cullen (eacdriftwood at gmail. com)_

_to: Bella Swan (sunrisemermaid at gmail. com)_

_date: Thurs, Dec 25, 2008 at 1:17 PM_

_subject: Merry Christmas (again)_

Hey neighbor. Just checking on you. I know I said I wouldn't pry and I'm really not trying to – I just don't know if for some reason Christmas is sad for you, or something. I really, really wish I were there right now.

I'm kicking myself for that week I let you hole up in your house. You were thinking, (brooding) I know- and I know you asked for time and I left you alone but I wish I hadn't. It was the longest week of my life. I don't mean that as selfish as it sounds. It's just that now I know what it's like to see you every day and it's hard to quit cold turkey. Maybe that's just me.

I should have asked you to come with me. Next year, okay? And I'm not taking no for an answer. We'll have fun- I'll take you up to the top of the Sears Tower and to the pier. And you said you've never seen a Broadway show- I'll take you to Wicked; everybody likes that one. Or maybe we'll just stay at the beach if you don't want to go anywhere.

Hopefully you've been getting a lot of painting done. I'm holding you to that—I want to see all your stuff when we take it to Angela.

Hey, I know you hate gifts but I got you something. I can see you gearing up to argue right now, but stop. It's Christmas. And you'll really like it even though you'll pretend to be annoyed. Curious now aren't you? You are. I know it.

I'm also getting you a fucking phone. One sided email conversations suck.

I'm going to see if I can get my flight moved up. I'm already packed anyway. A couple of Esme's tennis friends are coming by to show off their grandchildren. I think I'll spike the hell out of the eggnog.

I miss you.

Click that little reply button.

-E

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_from: Edward A Cullen (eacdriftwood at gmail. com)_

_to: Bella Swan (sunrisemermaid at gmail. com)_

_date: Thurs, Dec 25, 2008 at 11:12 PM_

_subject: Just humor me, dammit_

Yeah, I'm aware that sending emails while drunk is a horrible idea. Turns out I was greedy with the bourbon. It was too good to drown in something like eggnog. So I'm up here going through some old 80's CDs with my good friend Booker's. Kentucky's finest bourbon. I gallantly saved him from a horrible death by nutmeg.

So, I moved my flight up. I fully expect a beautiful girl with long brown hair to be hiding in my kitchen when I get home. Can you make that happen for me, Swan? I really want to see her. But be sure to tell her not to touch that fucking pie or there'll be hell to pay. Actually, if you can convince her to be waiting in my kitchen, I'll give her the whole damn thing.

I hate it here. I miss uncle Pete. I never saw him on Christmas but we always talked on the phone. I'm getting you a phone as soon as I get home. I tried calling Mrs. Cope so she could check on you but I couldn't get her either. What would I do if I came back and the whole town was gone? Like in a Stephen King novel. I don't know. What the fuck is wrong with me.

I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you. See, that's the beauty of being hammered, tanked, plastered, whatthefuckever. Inebriated, my dad would say- very properly of course- inebriated. I don't care that I'm about to send this to you even though I'll regret it in the morning. Fuck, Bella, I'm so sorry for asking all those questions, before, when we were in the bar, when I made you almost cry. I promise I won't anymore if things can be the way they were.

You know I was talking about you right? The beautiful girl hiding in the kitchen is you. I think sometimes you don't get how beautiful you are. But you are. Inside and out.

I'm so fucking tired. Thank God I can sleep on the plane. Will you PLEASE email me back, I'm so fucking worried. Even if you hate me. Wait- I know you don't hate me. I meant, even if you're mad at me. I'll be here a couple more hours then I'll be on the plane.

-E

There's a little birdhouse in my soul for you, Firefly.

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**hugs and kisses to susayq! Disclaimer in ch.1**

**Edward paraphrased They Might Be Giants a teensy bit. He was listening to A Little Birdhouse in Your Soul.**

There's already a drink out there named Firefly but I don't like it- primarily because I don't really like grapefruit juice. SO. I altered it because I can.

_**Firefly**_

**1/2 oz orange liquor (Edward uses Grand Marnier but you could use Triple Sec)  
1 oz citrus vodka (Edward uses Absolute, not Bella's under the sink)  
1 oz amaretto (Edward uses Dekuyper)  
3 oz cranberry juice (or more, to dial it down) **

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled martini glass

Edward would garnish with lime, if he was as the bar. (Bella likes extra)

It's good y'all. I had one last night. :) See you Friday!


	10. How to Begin?

**Happy Birthday to my beautiful beta susayq! Nothing gets past her eagle eyes.**

**A huge slice of Mrs. Cope's pecan pie to pre-reader faireyfan, who calls me out on the things I don't think through. :)**

**Disclaimer in chapter 1. Any mistakes you find are mine...**

**Next update will be Friday, March 18th.**

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As she climbed out of the ocean, the tangled waves sucked greedily at her feet, reluctantly retreating. Early morning swims always refreshed Bella, but especially when the water was freezing, like it was today. Edward would have thought she was insane. It wasn't dangerous, though, taking a dip in the winter; that's what wetsuits were for. Still, she didn't stay in long at these temperatures. Her hands squeezed down her sides to shed excess water and then did the same to her hair. She hurried over the dunes to her towel and threw it around her shoulders, knowing that if she didn't get inside soon she'd be an ice cube.

Christmas was over, thank goodness. She didn't mind Christmas, not really, she had plenty of nice memories and not any bad ones; she just didn't like the blatant reminder that she was so alone. By turning off the TV and the computer she could pretend that it was just any other day. It wasn't easy or always possible, but she tried.

Without thought, her eyes slid to Edward's empty house, silent and dark. He'd be home from his parent's house sometime today, tonight most likely, according to the purveyor of Summerside's comings and goings, Mrs. Cope. Anticipation twisted in her stomach and she wondered if he'd thought about her at all, because she'd definitely thought about him. She'd been thinking about him for days that turned into weeks_,_ ever since she ran away from him, wanting to go over there but unable to find the words to explain exactly why she'd acted so horribly. She'd practically hidden from him for two weeks because of it. It was inevitable that she'd run into him here and there, as small as Summerside was, though. They'd seen each other at the grocery store and the church holiday bake sale, and once he'd caught her taking out the trash… each time he'd smile tentatively, waiting for her to come to him. And every single time she'd bolted. That she was a coward wasn't news to Bella, but now Edward knew it too.

She didn't know if they could return to the easy friendship they had. But living without him was more miserable than facing him. And facing him meant telling him, she got that now. Of course, that was assuming he even wanted her friendship back; she wouldn't be surprised if her latest drama episode had been the final straw. Her mother had always told her that her stubbornness would eventually cause her friends to "drop like flies". She'd asked him for time to think, she had no idea that he'd _really_ leave her alone.

The funny thing was, she'd known before she even walked out the door that day that she would tell Edward about that night. She knew it would hurt, even now it hurt just thinking about it but she was so tired of hiding. She just wished she could skip the actual "telling" part. It wouldn't do to tell him _everything_ of course, she couldn't. It was one thing for Edward to feel sorry for her. Or even curl his lip in distaste at the sheer volume of Pathetic with a capital 'P' she had heaped upon herself without help from anyone. It was quite another to be so repulsed and horrified that he never spoke to her again.

It was hard, thinking about her sister. Hatred and love for Rosie warred constantly with shame and guilt. She could lay blame at Rosie's feet for a lot of things but the worst crime belonged to Bella. She would never ever be able explain Rosie's death to herself, much less Edward.

It was almost too much to hope that confiding in Edward would help in any sort of way. Maybe he'd promise that nothing could ever affect their friendship. He might even really believe that heartwarming cliché; _your past does not define you_. But she knew better. Oh, he'd be nice at first but the distance would creep in. They'd go from best friends to friendly neighbors to acquaintances in no time at all. And then spilling her guts would be all for nothing. But going forward meant telling him. And despite realizing how it all might end, Bella wanted Edward to know her.

She sniffed. Damn it all, she was going to make herself cry. What happened that night a few years ago wasn't her fault, she knew that. But that night wasn't the worst of it. Not by a long shot. For the first time in years the truth was burning a hole in her, clawing it's way out.

She'd tell him about that night. But Edward could never, ever know that he lived next door to a murderer.

* * *

She rubbed the towel over her wet hair and let it drape over her head like a hood. A cup of coffee sounded perfect right now, and maybe she'd finally turn on the computer and check her email. Reaching the screen door, she shrieked in alarm even as she recognized his familiar form standing there in the shadows. It was Edward; leaning in her breezeway, looking rumpled and utterly drained. His black leather overnighter still dangled from his shoulder, as if he had literally spent all his energy getting there to that one spot and had none left for anything else. Her eyes flicked over him, cataloging the stubbly chin, wild hair and bloodshot eyes that made her want to lead him to bed and tuck him in with her favorite blanket. Then she really got a good look at his face. He was apprehensive, mixed with sheer joy and a surprising flash of anger.

She walked up slowly, then launched herself at his chest, standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. For a moment Edward stood motionless until the sound of his bag hitting the floor jolted him into action. His knees nearly buckled in relief that Bella was here in his arms, whole and safe, even if the little idiot _was_ swimming in 38º weather. That she was glad to see him was reassuring; he'd imagined all sorts of scenarios while his minds ran in circles on the plane. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and hugged her close, remembering how to breathe.

"Edward!" she hummed when he tightened around her. "I thought you weren't coming until later today." Her entire body quivered. She hoped he thought it was from the cold.

"You're like a damned popsicle," he said, wincing when he couldn't keep the sharp edge out of his voice. He rubbed her back with one hand; the other crept up and held the back of her head, twisting in her wet hair. She smelled like home, ocean and brine and something entirely her own. He stifled something between a growl and a moan when her slender body pressed up against him, lining up in the best way possible. Surely she couldn't know what she was doing to him. As she sighed, he forced himself to move and let her go. She didn't back away like he expected though; she kept her hands on his forearms and gazed up at him, eyes sparkling. He'd never wanted to kiss anyone more in his life. His eyes dropped to her mouth but then swore under his breath when her teeth began to chatter.

Bella actually giggled. "I know; I need to change. Come in." She paused, "Unless you want to go home and sleep? You look like you need some rest."

"No, I'm good." He followed her into the house, rubbing his eyes. "But you need something hot. Do you mind if I make coffee?"

"That sounds great. I was going to make some anyway," she said. "Hey, I'm glad you're back," she called as he watched her disappear up the stairs. "I know it's not breakfasty but there's pie in the fridge if you're hungry. Pecan, I think."

Edward exhaled. He couldn't decide if he should give in to the joy at having her back or be pissed off for the last few days. He did know that he felt whole for the first time in three weeks. He didn't know who or what had done away with moody Bella but maybe he shouldn't complain. It was good to be home.

* * *

"How did I not know you swim in the mornings? Every morning?" Edward kept his eyes on Bella as he tipped back his beer.

They'd spent the day together, managing to skirt the enormous elephant in the room. He mentioned the emails but she hadn't even had her computer on. Figures. He let it go because she was happier than he'd seen her in a while, like a dark cloud had moved from over her head. So he drove her into town for lunch out and then to the art store to pick up a few supplies. Now, they were sunset gazing on his deck since the bar was still officially closed for the holidays.

"Are you sure that's… safe? Swimming by yourself that early?" His jaw clenched as he picked at a fingernail. That he was even hesitating annoyed him; when had he ever tiptoed around a woman? _Never_.

"Have you ever tried to pull one of these labels off in one piece?" Bella murmured as she tugged at her beer bottle. "People do it in the movies, but there's always too much glue whenever I try it." She avoided his eyes.

"What the hell, Bella! Am I not allowed to ask you anything now? Why don't you just make a list of all the approved topics so I won't be worried that you'll clam up or cut and run." He scowled and kicked at her deck chair with toe of his shoe. "Don't fucking ignore me."

Bella watched him passively and snuggled into her fleece. She wanted to stop time to avoid the conversation she knew was coming. How often had she wished she could go back and do just one small thing differently? She bet Emmett McCarty had the same wish sitting alone at night in his prison cell.

The sun was slipping away into the water, stealing what little warmth the day had. The deck was cozy though because Edward had pulled out a big space heater.

"I'm teasing you. Don't get your panties in a twist."

He snorted.

"I guess I deserved that." She shrugged. "I don't know, Edward, I've been swimming in the ocean for forever. I grew up on the beach and it was just something I did."

His eyes glittered at her in the dark and she squirmed. She looked back to the darkening waves and blew out an exaggerated sigh. "Jacksonville Beach. That's where I grew up. I was even on the swim team in high school." She turned to meet his eyes. "I'm a strong swimmer so you really don't need to worry, okay?"

His lips stuck out in a pout as he nodded, breaking her gaze. He slowly took another pull off his beer. The silence crept along, expectant.

She chewed on her lip. In her mind she had already decided how much she would reveal but it was hard to find a starting point. Edward finally put his hand on her knee to stop her from bouncing.

"Swan, calm down. You don't have to say anything. I know I'm a lot of bark but I won't bite. It's not the damned Spanish Inquisition."

"I know."

He squeezed her leg. "Look. I worry about you. And don't say I shouldn't because that's pretty impossible now. Usually what I want to say doesn't come out the right way, but… here goes. Sometimes I get so angry that you're all alone. Not at _you_, just at the circumstances because I don't understand. And I want to know why, because- your mom is still alive, right? And then, sometimes I'm glad because I have you all to myself. But that's so selfish and fucked up I can't even stand it." His voice cracked. "I guess what I'm trying to say—"

"I get it, Edward. I do." She gazed past him with wide, dark eyes and seemed to crumple. He sighed as he watched his gentle girl hug her knees to her chest and retreat inwards. Someone had hurt her. Badly. Whether she was hurt physically or emotionally, he didn't know, but he felt the truth of it as sure as he was sitting here next to her. The thought of anyone hurting her set his heart thundering in his ears and he clenched his knuckles on his thighs to stop himself from punching something. Somehow she had unknowingly cultivated an ability to make him ultra-aware of himself where she was concerned. He needed to relax. He forced his hands open and leaned back in his chair, splayed his legs, and attempted to look as nonthreatening as possible. Then he waited.

"Right now it's too painful for my mom to be around me, so we haven't spoken in a few years," she began. Her gaze became restless and uneasy, a startling contrast to the monotone of her voice. "Growing up, my sister Rosalie was absolutely beautiful. I got my dad's coloring but Rosie looked more like my mom. Her hair was this incredible golden honey color… whenever she went to the hairdresser they'd always tell her she was so lucky, that women would kill to have that shade of blonde. But really, her eyes were the most beautiful things about her. My mom and Rosie both had blue eyes. So blue they were almost violet." She shook her head and smiled. "God, I was so jealous, it was pathetic. When I was seven, I overheard my mom tell her friend with a newborn that sometimes a baby's eyes can change color. And if they change, it takes a while to become the color they were meant to be. So I kept hoping that mine would change to... _anything_… I wouldn't have been picky! Anything but brown. But they never did. After a few months I finally asked my mom if she knew when my eyes would change because I'd been waiting a really long time. She asked why and then when I told her? She thought that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard." Bella covered her eyes and laughed softly. "She even told all her friends."

Edward didn't know how long he'd been sitting motionless, his beer hovering in front of his mouth. He'd never heard her talk so much at one time. "I think your eyes are beautiful," he said.

Her smile was bleak and she waved a hand at him from where she clutched her legs. "I didn't mean to get off on that tangent. I just meant that Rosie was kind of my mom's favorite. I was really a daddy's girl." Sadness crossed her face for a moment before she turned her gaze to the ocean. "Mom loved me but she really lived for Rosie. When Daddy was shot it was horrible. My mom was devastated. We all had to go to therapy; it was city policy you know, and she and Rosie talked and cried the entire time to the counselor. That's what you're supposed to do, I guess. But I didn't. Not really. When I look back on it now, she must have thought I just wasn't that affected. She was wrong about that but my dad was something I just didn't want to share with anybody else, much less a stranger. Rosie and Mom would cry together and talk about him while I just read books. And that was when I really started painting. It was kind of like an escape for me. Mom didn't understand any of that though and it really made her mad. She didn't want me to do it… to paint."

"Did your sister ever stick up for you? Were you close?"

"Sometimes… and no… we weren't close." Bella fidgeted then popped up out of her chair. She leaned on the rail and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Do you have anything stronger than a beer?"

A surprised laugh burst out of Edward, diffusing the tension. "Anything stronger? Are you kidding? Stay right there."

* * *

**I'm sorry to end it there, but when Bella decides she wants to talk? It's really hard to get her to stop.**

**I love you guys, so much! I'm heading to the beach today... really wish I could find Edward's bar...**

**See you next week!**


	11. Firefly

**Please be advised:**

**There are references to sexual assault in this chapter. The violence itself is not described but the aftermath and feelings associated definitely are. The last thing I want to do is hurt or offend someone, so please PM me if you have any concerns. I'll help you make an informed decision on whether you should read or not.**

**Many thanks to susayq, who spots my mistakes. Any left are mine.**

**Lots of love to faireyfan, who truly goes above and beyond. *hugs***

**

* * *

**

"I'm stalling," Bella blew into her glass.

"Really? I couldn't tell." A corner of his mouth turned up and he considered her for a moment. "So, tell me what you were like in high school. What was your favorite subject?" He finished off his shot of tequila. "Well, besides art."

"Yeah, art was my thing," she said. "I really liked English though, mostly the literature part. I was pretty good at writing so I always had A's in those classes." She took a sip and coughed. "As far as what I was like… um, I was shy." She huddled in the chair, arms wrapped around her middle. Every once in a while her feet would swing carefree before she curled them behind the front chair legs. Then she'd unhook them and kick out again. She shrugged, giving him a small smile. "Aren't you surprised?"

He looked at her with affection. "It's always the shy ones…"

"But that didn't really apply to me," she said, insistent. "Really. I usually had my nose in a book. Rosalie was the one who was the life of the party. She went through boys like crazy. A few times there were guys that seemed interested in me but it was just a tactic to get to her. So I didn't bother with them. I was always painting, anyway." She noticed Edward's concerned expression and laughed softly. "Seriously, don't feel bad for me. All those guys were complete idiots."

He frowned, glancing sideways at her, then away. It was hard to believe she hadn't been snapped up in high school. He turned back and caught her watching him. "Okay, so no boyfriends but you dated… ?" He broke off awkwardly when she shrugged. "So… wait, you've never…" Edward winced suddenly and ducked his head, flushing as he stopped his idiot runaway mouth. Did he really blurt that out loud? Maybe… _hopefully_, she hadn't caught where he was going with that train of thought. He peeked at her through his lashes and wanted to kick his own ass. It wasn't always easy to tell what she was thinking but this time it was obvious. Her fingers were white from the death grip she had on her glass.

"Well, it's not like I've never been kissed before," she said stiffly.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound… please, just tell me to shut up." He dropped his head in his hands and groaned. She'd be more than justified if she slapped the hell out of him and went home. But damn if the thought of Bella being a virgin didn't shoot heat straight to his dick.

When she turned away to pour another shot of tequila he tried to squirm discretely and willed himself to behave. He needed to change the subject but his mind had gone missing in his pants. Since that afternoon on her porch steps, the afternoon she'd regulated him to "friend" status, he'd purposefully tried not to think about Bella in that way, otherwise he would have gone stark raving mad. He'd done a pretty good job too, in spite of the obscene dreams that peppered his nights… and sometimes in the shower…

Bella cleared her throat. "Earth to Edward…"

"I'm here," he said through muffling fingers as he looked up at her, aiming for puppy dog eyes even though he was doubtful he could pull it off.

She downed her shot and threw her head against the back of the chair, squinting up at the stars. "This tequila really works." She laughed and pinned him with glassy eyes. "It makes saying what I have to say kind of easy, you know? Like it's not me really saying it." The tears spilled and ran in shiny tracks down her cheeks to slur her words. "It's too bad it's still me that has to see it in my head."

Edward slid out of his seat and was on his knees beside her in a second. She sighed a warm breath across his neck when he pulled her from the chair and wrapped himself around her like a safety blanket.

He hummed and murmured wordless things in her ear as they sat jumbled together on the floor of the porch. She relaxed back against his chest, throwing one of her legs over his so that she was cradled more to the side, her ear right over his heart. The fact that he felt so much pleasure from touching her when she was upset made his conscience sit up and scowl. But then he'd long suspected that he would take any excuse to hold her, in any capacity, any honorable thoughts be damned. He was only proving himself right.

"I'm not crying," she croaked, the denial somewhat at odds with her damp sniff against his chest.

"Of course you're not," he soothed, his chin on top of her head. He had no idea what she was going to say. "Get it out, Firefly. Whatever it is we'll get past it."

She gave a little laugh and a sniff in the same breath. "Firefly?"

"Yeah," he sighed and ran his nose through her hair, glad she couldn't see his embarrassment. He kicked himself for letting that slip out. "I'll explain another time." She nodded her face against him and breathed deeply.

"My sister committed suicide. That's how she died." Bella sat up slightly and wiped her eyes, resolutely turning her face toward the ocean. She could do this fast… get it over with, as long as she didn't have to look at Edward and his sad, gentle eyes. Fast, like ripping off a band-aid. She took another deep breath.

"Rosie had a boyfriend. Royce. Well, I wouldn't even call him a boyfriend; they just hooked up a lot. He was mean and controlling and made her mad all the time. I never understood why she stayed with him because they were always fighting."

Her words came quickly, with a sort of feigned upbeat tone that made Edward nervous, like he was watching a clueless horror movie victim amble down the basement stairs to check out that strange noise in the middle of the night.

"So, one night in June… um, June 5th actually. Like I'll ever be able to forget that date," she muttered under her breath. "Anyway, we were all at this big house party on the lake close to Tallahassee. Rosie hardly went anywhere without him; it was so pathetic. That's where they went to school, Florida State. She was going into her junior year and I had just graduated from high school so I was staying with her for the summer. Mom had just married Phil Dwyer and they were on this extended honeymoon thing in Hawaii. So we were kind of on our own."

He blew out a whistle. "No way. Phil Dwyer? The baseball-"

"Yeah, yeah. The baseball player."

"Okay," he smiled meekly. "Sorry, carry on."

She patted his arm. "They were in the middle of this stupid, ridiculous drama at this party. Royce hated me because I was always telling her to dump him. But he was just so disgusting. Nothing but a messed up, spoiled little rich kid who always got what he wanted when he wanted it." She sat up, pulling completely out of Edward's hold. Her back was rigid, as if she was bracing herself for a blow.

* * *

"_Hey Leah, I'll see you later. I need to make sure Rosie hasn't broken her hand on his face. I'm gonna go out back to see if she's out there."_

_Leah's face was solemn as she pulled on Bella's shirtsleeve as she turned to leave. "Remember it wasn't me who told you, although you know Rose would have found out sooner or later. Just… he's really scary you know? I so do not want to be on his bad side. Especially if he's freaked out on meth and stuff like he is tonight."_

_Bella nodded then blinked as a flash popped in her face. Somebody was taking a picture of a rowdy group of guys right in front of them. The guy in the middle was absolutely huge. He must play football for FSU or something._

_She turned back toward Leah. "Believe me, I know. We're definitely leaving." They half hugged. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow?"_

"_Yep. Bye girl."_

_Bella walked out the back door of the lake house into a stifling wall of humidity. Her hands flew to her long hair and smoothed it down, bemoaning the tiny curls already springing up around her temples. The deck steps were all but deserted, the party having moved indoors next to the alcohol source and more importantly, the air conditioning. She'd been hoping to see Tyler sometime tonight but it looked as if he hadn't even come. It didn't matter either way but sometimes it was nice to have a boy to talk to. It might have made her feel less like a loser. Bella knew she was a little different. She just didn't really like parties like this. What was the point? She'd never seen the appeal of getting so drunk that you'd sleep with anyone, stick your face in a toilet or trip over your own feet. She could do the last one completely sober anyway._

"_Rosie?" Ugh, the steps down to the boat dock were slippery and she tightened her grip on the railing, praying she didn't catch a splinter. Three flights of stairs seemed an abnormally long way down to the water. It would help if they had lights out here, she thought as she looked up. The sky was kinda freaky tonight, all weirdly oppressive and completely black. No stars, no moon. The bottom was about to fall out; she could feel it. "Rosie! It's starting to rain, let's go. You've got that thing in the morning, remember?" _

_Raised voices floated over from the bottom deck so she went a little faster, wanting to get this over with. As she reached the bottom steps, her fireball of a sister came into view, hitting and shoving her stupid boyfriend while working her vocals into volumes so loud Bella was sure she was disturbing the wildlife in the surrounding woods for a good half mile radius. Please. The Drama. There were so many guys falling over themselves to even talk to Rosalie. Why did she have to pick Royce King?_

"_Come on, Ro— …" She choked back a gasp as she saw her sister get sucker punched in the stomach… hard. Bella's throat closed up, the last part of Rosie's name coming out as a withheld scream, so tight and painful it was hardly sound. Golden hair spilled out over the boards next to the jet skis, mingling with the oil-slicked water when Rosie dropped to her knees, already curled like a bewildered question mark. Royce kicked her and she fell over on her side._

"_Stop!" Bella whisper-yelled, as her heart constricted and squeezed out panicked beats. She was two steps into her rescue when a pack of boys came in from the side, laughing and cutting up, smoking, nothing but backwash left in their whisky bottles. She waited to see if they would stop Royce from hurting her sister. But they just stood there, like she was. Watching. Doing nothing._

_Royce said something to make them laugh and drew back to kick her again, showing off for them this time. In fascinated horror, Bella watched as his boot connected but seemed to get stuck. Rosie's arms were locked around his foot so tight that he lost his balance and fell right on his ass, his furious gaze bouncing around until he locked on Bella, terrified on the steps. She hadn't realized she was standing in a shaft of practically the only light down there, a sickly greenish cast from the naked bulb hanging over his head. The light rocked gently back and forth, in time with the dirty lake water slapping against the shore._

_

* * *

_

Bella shivered. "I've never seen anyone so mad in all my life. His friends thought it was hilarious when he fell down but it was like Royce… he just… snapped." Bella paused for so long that Edward thought maybe that was all she would say for tonight. But then she spoke again, lowly, her voice laced with sorrow. "They really beat her up."

Edward hesitated. _They? Jesus, all of them? How many are we talking about?_ He was afraid to ask her where she was when all this was happening but the words just tumbled out. "Bella, where were you?"

"I was there." She murmured in a detached tone.

"Did they… did they hurt you too?" He could barely push the question out.

"I don't know. They… um, not really. It happened fast. I don't. I don't remember."

* * *

"_Where're you going little girl?"_

_Bella whimpered at the boys blocking her way back up the steps, between her and help, between her and anyone, even her stupid phone, in her stupid purse, that she stupidly left in the guest bedroom. Her hand clenched painfully on the railing, a splinter now the least of her worries. That big tall boy, the football player, was way up there in the house. She could see the back of him through the window. But even if he turned around, could he see her in all this blackness? She would give anything to rewind time just five minutes. _

"_I think she's got a big mouth like her sister, don't you. You gotta big mouth?"_

"_I know something that can shut that mouth up real good."_

"_Hey, maybe we shouldn't—"_

"_You are such a pussy, dude. I bet you won't say that when her ass is in the air."_

"_Come on baby, you aren't gonna be trouble are you? We'll have fun. You wanna drink?"_

"_She ain't got tits like Rosie but she's hot, dude. I got her first._

"_Fuck you, man. Hey bitch, you like it rough like your sister?"_

_..._

_When it counted, she froze. She couldn't even scream._

_

* * *

_

Bella shrugged and sat stiffly in the vee of his legs.

Edward's stomach churned. Something wasn't right. "So, you got away then. Did you run for help?"

He felt more than heard the air rush out of her. Her breaths turned shallow, almost panting as she gripped and tugged the bottom of her fleece.

"Bella?" Fear skittered up his spine and trailed icy fingers on the way back down. Damn it, why did he have to ask so many questions? His shaking hands hovered over her arms as he tried to decide how to help her. Should he touch her? Maybe he should just shut the fuck up and leave her alone. He decided he didn't want to hear this after all.

"Did I run for help?" She whispered. "I tried. I wanted to. They caught me by the collar of my shirt. It choked me and tore right down the back but I kept on running. I thought I'd gotten away because I flew all the way back up to the house to get help and I found my dad. I couldn't believe it but he was there!" Bella turned suddenly, and looked at Edward with wide, pleading eyes. "I touched him, Edward; I _did_, I ran my hand across the shoulder of his uniform. I felt him. He smelled the same and he was warm… he seemed so _real_." She hesitated, winding her trembling hands in her long hair, pulling hard. Her words turned bitter, aimed down at her lap. "But when he was running with me down the steps to save Rosie I woke up choking and coughing and spitting out leaves. It was wet and I was in the dirt. Dirt and pine needles were in my nose and mouth and my sister was crying.

I thought I knew how to protect myself. At the very least I thought I could scream but nothing came out; it was like my air was gone. I couldn't even cry. But I fought, Edward. I really did. It didn't matter." She fell into his embrace, burying her face in the sweet curve of his neck, the comforting scent of him filling her lungs. "I can't wear blue anymore. Isn't that weird? It's too bad 'cause I always thought I looked pretty in blue."

He squeezed her close and pressed his lips to her temple, rocking her as the moon rose behind them and the stars grew bright… even as his body vibrated with an anger that had nowhere to go. She hadn't said she'd been …violated in that way and he wasn't going to ask. But it'd been pretty obvious. He forced himself to take a deep breath. "Bella?"

She snuffled and snored lightly against his shoulder, draining the fight right out of him. He carried her inside and put her in his bed, breath hitching as the dark gloss of her hair fanned and slid across his pillow when he pulled the elastic out. He grazed his fingers over her cheek and left to grab a blanket from the closet.

* * *

She dreamt she lived alone in an old cinder block beach house. The kind of house that was only one room and always had sand inside no matter how hard you tried to get it out. The wind howled endlessly but the house stood strong. Still, a strange sense of terror hovered in the air, something coming, something big, so she walked tirelessly around the place, roaming the walls with her fingers, feeling the dips and fractures and her nails wearing down from the scratching. She checked all the locks on the windows and doors. She wondered; for a tiny house there seemed to be miles and miles of locks to check. But she never stopped walking. Whenever she thought she was finished, she would come across one more door to close and after that, one more window. The openness filled her with such fear that she would slam them until they rattled, heart pounding, only to walk a few more feet and find another open door, another open window.

When she woke, it wasn't with her immediate, adrenaline-pumping jolt back to reality that usually accompanied her nightmares, if she even happened to remember them. It was slow and terrifying, a race she couldn't win, a suffocating, never-ending ascent to the surface after spending too long underwater. Her muscles ached as her reluctant body came back to life and she found herself gasping and fighting with a blanket tangled around her legs. Panic clutched her chest until she recognized the moonlight streaming in through the French doors. Closed. Edward's doors. His room… his bed? And- oh God, there he was beside her. She watched him sleep and willed the dream's strange sense of dread away, relaxing bit by bit until she lay back down and faced him on the pillow. Her head was still fuzzy but now she felt better, more alert.

Edward lay on his back; his long limbs sprawled across the right side of the bed. One arm was casually thrown up beside his head and something as innocent as the round arch of his biceps launched the twirl in her stomach. Her heart beat a little faster as her eyes traveled over his profile and the coarse hair shading his jaw. His mouth was slightly open; a light snore rasped every few seconds. The wild mess on top that spilled over onto his forehead made her wish for charcoal and paper, if only to capture the contrast of his angles and gentle curves. As she committed the length of his eyelashes to memory, he breathed deeply and groaned. She watched his fingers twitch, curl into fists and unfurl again. She wanted to grab his hand and hold it to her cheek, twine her fingers with his until they were locked together. So he couldn't let go. As his eyes blinked up at the ceiling, a flurry of emotions passed over his face. He swallowed and turned to look at her, unsurprised to find her awake.

"Hey there." His smile was hesitant as he inched his hand toward her face, giving her ample time to react. His thumb rubbed gently at the tear tracks on her cheek as she covered his hand with hers.

"Edward," she whispered. The pain and longing in his eyes put a lump in her throat. Now that she'd come this far she had to get the rest out. The aftermath of that night, for her, was married with certain smells and textures, physical hurt. A body can heal but the ghosts remain for years, maybe forever. Even now, thinking of those boys, the smell of pine sap filled her nose and she wanted to gag. Bella yanked on Edward's t-shirt and he came toward her confused but willing, his frame shuddering when she pressed her face to his throat and inhaled to chase away the memories. She fully intended for words to come out of her mouth, to give the rest of her story for him to keep and lock away, but she whimpered instead, the tears bleeding out of her as he gathered her in his arms. He was big and strong, a man, he could've easily overpowered her but instead she felt warm and safe. She felt loved.

"Shh, Firefly, you don't have to say anything else," he said in a soft voice. "Bella…" he corrected. "Shhh."

Drawing back a little, she said, "No. I have to… I have to say the r-rest." She cringed at her weak, stumbling words.

"Then, I'm here." His fingers combed through the crush of her hair. Already, this moment was etched into his brain. Pure bliss sandwiched between two horrors. The anger was gone for now, he'd only felt gratitude from the minute he opened his eyes and saw her beside him.

"Okay," she said, sniffing, and then moved her cheek to the cotton of his shoulder. "Okay. I have to say the rest. All of it." She tucked her face away, again, hoping she wouldn't have to look at him. _Like a band-aid, Bella. Go._

He nodded, rubbing her back.

"I don't want to," she barely whispered. _Go, Bella. Just say it. Then it'll be over._ "There's so much I don't remember," she said weakly. "That's good, in a way. But some part of me knows and small things that I didn't use to have a reaction to will set me off; and I'll have to get out of wherever I am so I don't fall down and curl into a ball and start screaming or something. I don't know. It's stupid and freaky and inconvenient."

Edward drew in a breath like he was going to say something so she hurried on.

"This one time, a couple of years ago, I was talking to Mike and Jessica in the gallery. She wanted to buy a painting for her grandparents for Christmas. There was one Mike liked, but it wasn't the one Jessica wanted. So, he said…" she swallowed, "he s-said… _'Come on, baby'_ and… and it was like the world went white, with no sound, except for my heartbeat in my ears. And then I was sweating like crazy and I felt dizzy. I remember looking at them, they were saying something but I just turned around and left. I walked all the way home and I just… went to sleep. I don't know why." Bella tightened her arms around his neck.

"I don't know when those boys left. Or Royce. When I opened my eyes they were gone and it was quiet and dark. So dark. Then I saw my sister moving around. She was looking for her keys in the pine straw. I remember relaxing and thinking that this was okay, because she was always losing her keys and that was familiar but then it really wasn't. It was weird. It was like I was there but… not there. And then I started to hurt."

* * *

"_Get up, Bella."_

_This was a dream wasn't it? But dreams didn't hurt like this._

"_Bella, get up and fix yourself. We need to get the hell out of here. Now."_

_Bella pushed herself into a sitting position. She had words she wanted to say but nothing would come out. Nothing._

"_Move! Dammit." Rosie walked over to her little sister and stared, as if she were some strange and interesting archeological find and touched her gently on the head. "Come on, sweetie. You'll be fine." She blew out a sigh._

_

* * *

_

Rosie told me to get up because we needed to go. So I got up. The party was pretty much gone by then; the house was dark. It was something like three in the morning.

She drove us back home, not back to her apartment… but all the way to Jacksonville. I didn't even ask her where we were going; I didn't care. I slept some of the time but we didn't talk at all; it was so strange. I didn't realize we were home until she pulled into our driveway and the sun was coming up. The whole ride was hazy… like a dream.

She pushed me into the shower. I think I smelled bad. I'd thrown up and it was all over… I hadn't even realized… I remember staring in the mirror and thinking that I was seeing someone else look back at me. From a movie set or maybe in a Halloween costume. I mean, I still had pine straw sticking out of my hair. And the blood, um…" she trailed off. As she talked, Bella withdrew her arms and tucked them against her chest, pulling away. Edward was sure she didn't even notice so he loosened his hold as she inched further and further, only leaving his hand on her side.

"Anyway, Rosie was already cleaned up by the time I got out of the shower. She had this pill she wanted me to take… it was one of those morning after pills. She had a whole stash; I don't know why. But she said it was so there wouldn't be any…" Bella took a deep breath and buried her face in her pillow. "I took it. She seemed so calm and everything, like she knew what to do. So I listened to her. She told me… she said we couldn't tell anyone what happened. Not one single person. I already knew Royce's family was important but one of the other boys there… she said his dad was a senator. I didn't know any of them. And then she said mom would be so disappointed and because Phil was getting kind of famous it would be embarrassing and all over the news. And if we named names that Royce's dad could ruin Phil's career. She s-said I'd get in trouble because I was drinking and underage and I should just forget about what happened to us. Then, th-then she told me that if I ever said anything about that night, she would say it wasn't true. That it never happened. That I was l-lying to get attention. And that this was the last time she would ever mention what they did... to anyone, even to m-me."

Bella slowly opened her eyes. Edward gazed back at her, his own eyelashes spiky with tears. He choked back a sob.

"Oh Bella, you didn't say anything?" He held her face in his hands as he searched her, his anguish mounting. He wanted to grab those years from her and obliterate them. Erase them so that they never existed. How could he ever have thought she was fragile? She was the strongest person he knew.

A faint but noticeable scar above her eyebrow now held new meaning for him.

"Here?" He whispered, tracing the spot stretching all the way over to her temple.

She nodded, eyes luminous. "And here," she said, pulling his hand gently to touch the bump in the line of her nose. She hid her face in the pillow when she pulled his hand around and down to the fleshy part below her shoulder blade. "A bite mark. Here." He tensed and she shrugged, adding, "but I don't even remember that happening."

She clutched him close when his hand curled into a fist against her back. When he crawled down her body and pressed his face into her stomach to hide his tears she ran her hands though his hair and felt so light she was sure she could float through the doors and out into the sea.

_I did it._

_

* * *

_

**I'd love to hear what you thought. I know this was tough. It was tough for Bella.**

**On that note, I've committed to write a story for the Fandom for Sexual Assault Awareness. It will be an outtake from Firefly. Link to the site is on my profile.**

**Next update: Friday, March 25th.**


	12. Early Morning Wetsuit

**So glad you're back :) Bella's revelations are over, but just in case,**

**Please be advised:**

**There are references to sexual assault in this chapter. The violence itself is not described but the aftermath and feelings associated definitely are. The last thing I want to do is hurt or offend someone, so please PM me if you have any concerns. I'll help you make an informed decision on whether you should read or not.**

**I don't own Twilight. More disclaimer in chapter 1.**

**Love to susayq, my comma queen. Any mistakes left are mine.**

**And I love that faireyfan makes me go back and analyze my spooning descriptions. :D xoxo**

**

* * *

**

She lay watching him sleep, this time in the cold morning light. She felt tender, bruised from her revelations. He'd held her all night long and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Even now, they were entwined as he curled loosely around her, the rising and falling of his chest steady as his warm breath coiled against her stomach. She stiffened; realizing that one of his hands was trapped between her thighs. He had folded in on himself during the night, so that her bare feet rested against the tops of his legs. It wasn't as if they weren't clothed, they were, but she'd never been like this with a guy before. Horizontal. She'd never been so _aware_. The temptation to ease out from under him and run to her own bed was strong, but she pulled her fingers through his hair instead, shifting a little, restless, gulping at the way his hot, loose limbs surrounding her spiked her heart rate. How did she not notice her t-shirt had ridden up? At least her sports bra was still in place. She tried to be still, but part of her was desperate to move… to seek more contact, friction, to run away? The only thing she was sure about at this point was that this was driving her crazy.

He shifted, groaning against her belly as his hand tightened in reflex around her ribs. Nuzzling his way up to the bottom of her breasts, he inhaled and hummed, a gravelly rumble low in his throat. Lips and tongue traveled across her middle, his movements almost painfully slow, until finally he stopped. After a long moment, Bella heard light snores coming from the direction of her belly button.

She grinned into the morning. A wave of love so strong it brought tears to her eyes completely blind-sided her and she wanted to laugh and cry and kiss and talk to him all at the same time. The same panic was there, so familiar, an old nightmare she knew by heart, but its teeth were gone, at least for the moment. She pictured a giant door and shoved the panic behind it, shutting it fast and firmly. _Maybe I can do this,_ she thought_. Maybe with practice I can find out what's normal. I want to be normal. For me. For him._

She gave him a tentative smile when his eyes flicked open sometime later. For an instant he was still asleep, the green she was used to clouded and dark. Then he blinked and it was gone. Staring up at her with a confused expression, his gaze sank to where one hand was clutched at her waist, the other cradled between her knees. He went rigid, snatching both his hands away with a horrified look.

Goosebumps broke out over her skin. "Edward?"

"Bella." A whisper. "Sorry. I didn't—" He shook his head and pushed up to a sitting position, pale, avoiding her eyes. He got up and moved to look out the window. All she could see was his back as he braced himself against the door, bowing his head.

Panic howled with glee and rattled the door, thrusting spidery fingers through the gap at the latch. She should have known. The chill was immediate as he retreated and she shivered, the memories of all the things she'd rather forget, pushing, crowding, and sending hairline fractures racing across what little confidence she'd built up.

_He might want you but you're too much work. You're not worth it._

_You shouldn't have told him. It's come between you now. Not only do you have zero experience but you have freaky sex phobias too._

_Make it easy for him. Let him off the hook. Edward's a nice guy. He still wants to be friends and he doesn't want to hurt your feelings. Don't make it weird just because you think you're in love._

_You're a nasty, dirty little coward and you got what you deserved. Don't ever delude yourself into thinking that he wants to put any part of himself where __**they've**__ been. What they did was disgusting and to be with you would make him disgusting too._

_Why don't you tell him what you did to your sister?_

"Bella? Wow, uh, sorry, didn't mean to freak out there. I think I'm still half asleep. I had a dream that I was kissing you and…" He turned around and out of habit tried to shove his hands in his pockets, only to realize the pajama pants he was wearing didn't have any. He settled for folding his arms across his chest instead. "Uh, I just don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. You know, because of the… friend thing. But you'd tell me, right? If you were uncomfortable. I mean, _are_, uncomfortable."

She blinked and came back to earnest, determined green eyes.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. Come here." He was back beside her on the bed, tugging at her shirtsleeve.

For once she ignored the voices and scrambled into his lap.

He rubbed her back. She felt the sound of his voice rumble right through to her toes, he was holding her so tightly. "I'm sorry I got all kissy and stuff. I kind of forgot myself and I might have been dreaming and the last thing I want to do is make you feel—"

"It was nice."

He went still. "It was—"

"Nice. Good. I mean… if you don't mind it being me."

"Bella." He loosened his hold like he wanted to see her face but then kept her where she was. "Explain nice, good."

"I guess, maybe… I liked you being kissy. That kind of nice. But I understand if it's weird for you now. Because… because of all that stuff. You know," she said softly, laying her cheek on the top of his shoulder. "And it's okay, I expected that, so don't… worry."

He shook his head and let out a long breath. "Firefly, being with you feels like the least weird thing I could do. Believe me."

She closed her eyes in relief over his shoulder, elated… and terrified. "I might freak out or something. But I'll try not to. I can do this."

"We'll go slow and it'll be fine." He was holding her tight again and kissed the curve of her neck gently. "You've kinda become my life, Bella. It feels like you always have been. I can be whatever you need."

* * *

_January 2009_

Edward had started waking at dawn every day. There were very few reasons for a late working bar owner to get up so early but he had a good one. He stretched, pulling a faded t-shirt on over his underwear and settled down by his windowsill to wait. His reason stepped out on the beach, twisting her dark hair in a knot on top of her head before she let it tumble down again. She drifted into the water, turning her face into the sun. He always felt like a pervert, watching her like this, but it never stopped him. A safety precaution, he told himself. No one should swim alone, especially this early in the morning.

He shifted in his seat because he was hard. He couldn't figure it out, but the wetsuit she wore in the wintertime got him going even more than one of her swimsuits. It was one of those stretchy black cold-water suits, covering almost every single inch of her, even her neck. When she walked out of the house in the mornings her hair was always down and dry, glinting red, chestnut, sometimes bronze in the sunlight. But later, when she climbed out of the water, when she was wet and dripping, her hair was black, so black there was no way to tell the point it melted into that slick, skintight suit. Then she was all black curves and legs and ass, except for the high spots of color on her flushed cheeks.

He groaned and leaned his head up against the window. Was he an asshole for thinking of her like this, for wanting her after she'd confided in him the other night? She really had no idea just how beautiful, how sexy she was. He wanted to hold and comfort her. He wanted to help bear her secrets and take away that sadness in her eyes. He wanted to wake up every morning and find her sleepy, twisted in his sheets. God, he wanted to taste her… her mouth, her lips, that spot where her neck curved into her shoulder… and other, lower places. He wanted to marry her.

But most of all he just wanted her to not be afraid of him.

Edward kept his eyes trained on the spot where she'd disappeared in the water. Finally, her head popped up and she began stroking back to shore. He breathed a sigh of relief. The older couple renting the blue cottage were taking an early morning stroll on the beach, stooping and picking up shells every once in a while. Bella waved at them as she walked to the towel hanging on her porch. Edward watched her dry off then headed for his bathroom. Keeping thoughts of her away while naked in the shower was difficult so he'd stopped trying a long time ago. His head bent under the spray as he pulled and squeezed his cock. There were plenty of things he could imagine and did, in glorious high definition detail. It never took long for him to come, her name a sigh on his lips.

* * *

"So. I finally read your emails from Christmas. It looks like you missed me." Bella could hardly keep the self-satisfied grin off her face.

"I think I was a little drunk. That's my defense," Edward said with his back turned.

"You know you called me Firefly in that last email."

"What? I didn't." He looked at her over his shoulder. "Did I really?"

She still had the grin.

"Nope, not telling you." He frowned at her with a mouthful of leftover pie. "Not when you're grinning like that."

"Fine," she laughed, head drooping down on her crossed arms from where she sat at her kitchen table. "I'll get you to tell me when you least expect it. When you're vulnerable. In bed, or something."

He gulped. "Huh?" he asked stupidly, feeling his ears turn pink, glad he was still facing the kitchen counter. They hadn't been in bed together since _that_ night. The only night.

"No, um," she shook her head, "sorry, that was silly. I really just wanted to know where that present was. The one you said you got for me." The grin had disappeared and she looked shy all of a sudden. "I mean, you know… if you still have it."

"Ohhh." Now he was the one smirking. "How the tables have turned, Swan." He carefully put his fork in her sink and slowly covered the pie dish with foil, before putting it back in her refrigerator, a smug smile plastered across his face. He settled across from her at the table. "Anytime you want me in bed… vulnerable, as you so eloquently put it, all you have to do is ask."

A girly snort escaped her. "Yeah, I know how easy you are." She pressed her little foot on top of his under the table.

"Touché," he said, and fidgeted in his seat. At the very least, she was going to drive him to a garden-variety foot fetish if she kept this up. "Wait. What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know."

"No, I really-"

"Edward. That blonde chick that stole my muffins?"

He looked at her blankly.

"It was months ago. We weren't really friends at that point… well, we were sorta friends but… you know what, this is so none of my business. Just… sorry, I mean, geez, you know my mouth, blah blah blah…" She flapped her fingers in clumsy hand-talking motions.

Edward could feel his face get red. "Fuck, Bella. I didn't… I didn't sleep with her."

"It's none of my-"

"Stop it. I might have wanted to. But I didn't."

"Edward…"

"Look, all I could think about was… I only let her… _DAMMIT_," he groaned, palming his forehead and staring at the table.

"Shh," she whispered. Her hand reached across the table and she poked him gently with her pinkie finger. "It's okay. Just tell me she gave you the muffins. They were kinds awesome if I do say so myself."

"Are you serious?"

"GAH. I knew it! I _knew_ she'd eat them all. I hope she weighs a thousand pounds. I know that's why she was getting a divorce. Her husband probably had nothing at all to eat in the house."

Edward started laughing so hard he almost couldn't stop.

Bella giggled. "They were good, really. Blueberry, with crumb tops and little nuts and stuff."

"Man, that sucks," he said between chuckles. "That really sucks because blueberry's my favorite."

"Yeah, I knew that. I mean… I know that." She smiled sheepishly.

"So."

"So."

"That conversation is over and done with."

"Yes. Over."

Edward played footsie with her under the table. "Good. Alright, so I thought you didn't like presents and all that. Changing your mind?"

"Well, I'll be honest. I've gotten apple pie, pecan… two times for pecan, cherry… uh, I think sweet potato? Anyway, all my special occasions have involved pie for the past several years. So, if your present isn't pie, then I'll be like, over the moon. Seriously."

He smiled at her, a little amazed at how hard it was to really remember anything worthwhile in his life before he'd met her. "Aw, damn. I guess I'll have to eat that key lime pie all by myself then."

"Edward. You didn't get me pie. I know you didn't."

"I didn't get you pie."

She squealed and bounded over to pull him out of his chair. "Oh my God, I'll be so embarrassed later because of how rude I'm being but _really_. Go. Go get it now."

"Excited much?" he said, laughing, as he allowed her to walk him to the door. "Geez, I hope it lives up to expectations. It's really not much." Her eyes sparkled up at him and her hand was warm as she squeezed his fingers. He wished now he'd gotten her so much more.

"I'll love it, whatever it is. Because it's from you. I've never gotten a present from a boyfr-" her eyes flew open wide and she barely refrained herself from slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Yeah? What was that?" he said softly, teasing, trying to smile. For months all he'd wanted was the right to say that Bella belonged to him but… this was so surreal. Here she was, in front of him, touching his hand, laughing and joking with him for the past fifteen minutes, like the horrible things she'd said two weeks ago had never even happened. He almost couldn't wrap his head around it. If he said the wrong thing… made one wrong move, he could hurt her. And if he hurt her, would she disappear? "Well that's good because what I picked out is sort of a girlfriend kind of… thing… present." He scrunched his face and blew hair out of his eyes, taking his other hand to rub the back of his neck.

"Really?" she whispered, gazing up at him earnestly.

He wanted to laugh. How in the world could they have lain nose to nose just a couple of weeks ago, talking about some of the most difficult issues he'd ever even thought about, much less put into words, and now… now… _awkwardness_. Thank God it was a pleasant kind of awkward. Complete with tingles and shivers.

Bella smoothed her hands over her hair and twisted it, tucking some behind her ear. That look was on her face again. The one that said_, I think this might be good but I won't believe it just yet. _

He trailed his fingers up her arms and pulled her to him, kissing her on the cheek. "Really," he said softly in her ear, resisting the urge to run his tongue down her neck. "Stay here. I'll be back in a sec."

As soon as he'd stopped at the bottom of her porch steps he felt around in his front jeans pocket and sighed. He'd had her present on him for weeks but thought it might be a bit creepy to just whip it out and hand it over. He walked in a circle in the sand and pulled his fleece closer. Damn, it was cold.

What was his problem? He wanted this with her; he wanted everything. But the times she pulled away… he just didn't know if it was something he did or said, or if she was just working through the things in her head. He couldn't screw this up because this was important. She was important. Damn it, being nervous was _not_ something he did well.

He psyched himself up and went back inside.

"Hey! That was fast," she beamed at him from the couch. "You must have had it right by the door. Her eyes flew over him, discretely looking for her surprise.

The knot in his chest loosened up. God, she was precious. Fuck, he was such a pussy for using a word like _precious_ but that was all that came to mind.

"It's not wrapped. Is that-"

"That's okay," she said quickly.

"Alright. Here goes…" he muttered. When he pulled his hand out of his pocket, a fine silver chain came with it. A shiny silver seashell slid down to the middle and swung gently from his fingers.

"Oooh," she murmured. "Oh, Edward, so beautiful. That's for me?

She reached out to touch it but drew back at the last second. So he caught her hand and dropped it in her palm, watching her pet it, test the weight in her hand. She was obviously pleased.

He'd spent a long time picking it out, and no small amount of money once he had. It was a designer necklace, but she wouldn't know that, and probably wouldn't care, except to declare never to wear it because of how much it cost. But it was perfect for her, really. Delicate, unique… it looked like silver but was actually platinum, the strongest metal used for jewelry. If she wanted to, she could wear it all the time, even swimming. It was the first time he'd ever given a woman jewelry, so he hoped he was doing it right.

Silently, he pulled it from her hand and moved forward to clasp it around her neck. As he leaned over her shoulder, she slowly inched her hands around his waist, until she'd pressed herself against his chest, her ear over his thumping heart.

"Thank you," she breathed, "thank you. Just… thank you. I love it, truly." She nuzzled her face into his fuzzy jacket. "Thank you."

His response was only to squeeze her tight because the words he really wanted to say were too frightened to come out. For now.

_Anything. I'd give you everything if I could. I love you. With my whole heart, I love you._

_

* * *

_

_February 2009_

"Look, look. Look what I brought you." Edward waved a thermos at Bella as he picked his way barefoot through the chilly sand. The sun hadn't done much to warm things up.

"White hot chocolate?" She clapped her hands and couldn't help running to meet him.

"Wow. I'm bringing this every time I come over now."

"I would love you forever." Her eyes closed as she unscrewed the top and breathed in the steam.

"Would you now," he laughed when she covered her face, embarrassed, though still smiling. "Then I'll buy stock in Ghirardelli. Hell, I'll buy the whole company." His thumb found it's way to the frothy milk mustache sitting on her upper lip. He swiped off the sweetness before bringing it back to his own mouth, warming at the way her eyes glazed over when he made a show of licking it off.

Bella curled her lip and glared, wise to his tactics and knew she was seconds away from being teased. They'd been playing games like this for more than a month, dancing around the attraction that sizzled between them. The shift was tiny and yet so monumental, as if some little cog had just clicked into place.

He grinned at her and kissed her forehead. "So, what are your plans for Valentine's Day?"

"Let's see… I'll have to check my appointment book. Listen to all my voicemail messages… wade through my inbox…"

"When you're finished breaking hearts, I'll be waiting." He said, inching ever closer because it was so hard to stay away. He traced the tiny seashell necklace glinting just under her collarbone.

"I know what I want for Valentine's Day," she whispered.

"What's that?"

"I want you to kiss me, Edward."

He closed his eyes and breathed her in, the smile that flashed across his face betraying his happiness. His nose traced the hair at her temple. "I _did_ just kiss you. Here. Remember?" He trailed his lips to her forehead.

"You know what I mean." She quivered in his arms.

"I do know." He moved down and kissed her eyelid. And then her cheek. "I could kiss you now. Really kiss you. Right now." He licked lightly at the corner of her mouth. "I like the way chocolate tastes on you. What do you think?"

She stiffened then relaxed. "I'm ready."

"I've been ready for a year," he mumbled against her lips, then dropped down and lightly bit at her neck. "So one more week won't kill us. Besides, when I finally kiss you it won't be freezing cold, in the middle of the day, out here in the open, where we'd be fueling gossip for the next decade."

She sighed, nodding slightly.

He moved to her ear. "I can hear you thinking. Don't doubt this, Bella. I want you. Right now I'd kiss every inch of you if I could get away with it. Even the parts that would make you blush for days."

"Edward," she groaned, shivering.

"I know, I know," he chuckled as he rocked her, the sand shifting beneath their feet. "I'm killing myself too."

* * *

_February 13__th__, 2009_

Bella grinned as she opened a new bag of chocolate chips while she read the text Edward sent to her new iPhone.

_The profs might sleep here tonight they love me so much. HELP! ;)_

Someone had chosen Summerside for Stanford's Annual Physics Retreat; which was not nearly as professional as the title made it sound. How Summerside had even been a blip on Stanford's radar they had no idea, especially in February, an atypical month for tourists. But here they were, all eight of them. The ones that were married had sent their wives off for daytrips to the spa and shopping over at Bay Breeze. Edward had laughed earlier because the scientists seemed to congregate at the bar all hours of the day and night, never caring if it was open or closed.

He sent her little text messages all the time now. But sometimes, he called her. He was always stealing her phone and changing the ringtones, glaring at her if she even looked as if she might mess with the settings. So it had become this wonderfully crazy, unspoken rule that she was not to interfere with his little games. She just had to wait and see what the new one was going to be when he called her. She loved hearing her phone ring, no matter what it sounded like, because she knew it'd be Edward on the other end.

He called her last night as she was climbing into bed.

"_What would you call these guys…" his voice had dropped to a loud whisper. "They never travel alone. They're always in packs." _

"_You said it. A pack of professors." She'd giggled, rustling under the sheets._

"_A pod of professors. Are… are you in bed right now?"_

"_No wait, a plague of professors," she'd said, yawning. "Top that one barman. And yes. Bed. Sleepy."_

_He'd hummed, a low buzz in her ear. "How about… a swarm of scholarly-types?"_

"_Goodnight, Edward." She'd smiled at him through the phone. "You win this time."_

"_I always win. Sweet dreams."_

She'd gone to sleep after gazing at the picture she'd snapped of Edward working behind the bar, smiling and chatting with a customer.

* * *

She was spooning dough onto the cookie sheet when her phone buzzed with another Edward-text.

_**Come over. We're talking about time travel. These guys are amazing.**_

She texted back.

_I'm coming. Waiting on your afternoon snack._

_**Excuse me?**_

_Cookies. Want some?_

His reply was immediate.

_**I can't believe you asked me that. Choc chip? Warm?**_

_Don't ruin the surprise._

_**NOW, woman.**_

Bella walked in to find Edward and the diminutive Dr. Shan practically head to head over the bar.

"Seriously? And you actually believe time travel is possible? Where are you on UFO's?" Edward joked. "And isn't it a little early in the day to be drowning your theories in scotch? Or is this how you guys work over there?"

"Ha! Always with the jokes! You're the one pouring, my friend. Edward, you are nothing if not entertaining. Astrophysics isn't my specialty but I know where to direct you if you'd like a more informed opinion concerning UFO's." Dr. Shan looked at him over steepled fingers, barely keeping his excitement in check over finding a new disciple. "But as far as time travel… well, logic would suggest that if time travel were to ever exist, then it already does. The methods required will eventually be devised, correct?" His eyes gleamed.

Edward nodded.

"Maybe it will take another ten thousand years to unlock the mysteries of time travel but… if it is indeed possible, then time travelers are already among us." Dr Shan sat back and sipped his early afternoon scotch.

"Amazing." Edward topped off the drink when he set the glass back down. "So what's your theory? Have you ever seen the Butterfly Effect?"

"Oh, yes, yes, I have seen it. And I agree with many of the theories from that film."

Bella waved at the other men at a nearby table as they argued over a mathematical theorem and sat down beside Dr. Shan at the bar. She offered the cookies, staring at Edward as he grabbed two and continued to talk while stuffing his face at the same time.

"So you don't think a person could travel to a time before they were born?" Crumbs blew across the bar and Edward glanced at Bella sheepishly. "Sorry. No lunch," he said in a low voice.

"Well, now, that's the Bucket Effect. The universe can only hold so much matter," the doctor said, slapping the counter, almost upending the cookie plate. "For instance, you may jump backwards in time but only within your lifetime."

Bella quietly slid the plate away, biting her lip to hide her smile.

"So Back to the Future is completely wrong," Edward said, sounding aghast.

Bella giggled, finally giving in to the absurdity of the conversation. "It's just a _movie_, Edward."

Dr. Shan laughed and held his hands up.

Edward raised his eyebrows at Bella. "So I could go back to the fifth grade and actually find the courage to kiss Julie Sampson?" He grinned when she rolled her eyes.

"Of course, but how would that kiss have altered your future… and hers?" Dr. Shan said in a hushed voice.

"I see what you mean."

"And if you did indeed alter the future, an incontrovertible fact I must add, then you as the traveler would have the only knowledge of both realities."

Edward stopped chewing. "My head is exploding."

Dr Shan nudged his glass. "Have a scotch, my dear barkeep. It's quite good."

Bella came around and kissed Edward lightly on the cheek before rummaging for a damp cloth to wipe up the cookie crumbs.

He couldn't keep the smile from his face as he raised a glass to the doctor. "My dear Dr. Shan, I think I will."

* * *

**As you probably know, ff.n has been weird this past week. I got a few notices for reviews last Friday but then they just... stopped. It wasn't until I noticed yesterday that Firefly's review count had gone up that I even knew I had more! So, if you haven't heard from me, that's why. I'm sorry. Now I know not to rely on my email.**

**At any rate, thank you for sticking with me through the last chapter. I loved reading what y'all thought. And just to clarify, the last words, "I did it", at the end of the chapter 11, belonged to Bella. :)**

**Next update: Friday, April 1.**


	13. Awakening

**I don't own Twilight. More disclaimer in ch.1**

**I love you guys :)**

**Love to my friend susayq. She graciously makes time for me and my words. Any mistakes left are mine.**

**And love to faireyfan, who made my day when she told me that messy houses were a sign of creativity. :D**

**There just might be something lemony here...**

* * *

"If you could go back in time what would you change?" The Stanford professors had stayed on Bella's mind all day long. What if life really could be like a Choose Your Own Adventure book? If you made a bad decision, no problem! Just go back a few pages and try again. It wouldn't matter if you died, or were hurt, or were the reason for a horrible catastrophe. You got a do-over.

She fished around the supply closet for Clorox wipes and checked her watch. It was nearly one in the morning; any normal person would be in bed. She wasn't exactly awake and firing on all cylinders but she didn't want to go home, either. Her heart was full as she watched Edward from behind the counter, because even when he was tired he still had a smile for her. She wanted to place her hand on his cheek, make him close his eyes so she could feel his jaw, the scratchy ridge where it sloped down to the pulse in his neck. Or maybe slip her fingers through his hair, comparing the soft length of the front to where it was cut shorter in the back. But she stayed where she was… for now. If she got close enough to touch him like she wanted then he'd really never be able to get rid of her.

"What?" he laughed. They were the only ones left in the bar and he'd glanced over at her as he locked the door, catching her spacey stare.

She tried her question again. "Would you go to your mom if you could go back?"

"I don't know," he said, with a small shrug. "I've been thinking about it. It's not like I could've done anything about my mom's cancer." Edward grunted as he heaved the last chair up on the table. "I don't think I could have saved Uncle Pete either. Maybe all you can do is go back and visit… maybe appreciate all the things you never thought were important while they were alive."

Her eyes followed him, growing a little dreamy at the way his shoulder blades shifted beneath his thin t-shirt as he moved around the room. She was having a hard time drawing a breath, and her heart was flipping around, this way and that, like a trout her daddy used to pull up from the boat. Not to mention that it was now Valentine's Day, the day he'd promised her a kiss, as cheesy as that was. Promising a kiss… it was all very middle school and silly, but it sure didn't feel like that when he was so close she could feel his warmth and breathe in the fresh, clean boy smell of him. In the summer he smelled a bit citrusy, limes and lemons, flirty. He smelled more grown-up in the wintertime, like scotch and bourbon, like her daddy, though she'd never told him that.

She'd been rubbing the same spot on the counter with her Clorox wipe for five whole minutes. What was wrong with her?

"Well," she attempted to at least pretend that she was a part of this conversation, "you could follow Emmett into that club and take his keys away."

Maybe there was something she could to do to move his strange little kissing process along. He'd already caught her staring at his mouth once or twice… and that was, well, frankly embarrassing, but she just couldn't bring herself to stop. She'd caught him too. He'd been much less guarded about how he looked at her since the New Year began. She pulled another wipe from the container and made herself pay attention to what she was doing. It didn't work though; she kept thinking about the way he'd lick his bottom lip right before he said something important. Like he was doing right… now. So much for intelligent conversation. At least from her.

"Yeah. But who's to say he wouldn't do the same thing the week after? It might be some other family. Maybe it'd be him next time." He stretched and groaned, hands reaching up toward the ceiling, completely oblivious to the effect the skin of his stomach was having on her. "It's all hypothetical, anyway. All we can do is move forward, right?"

"Well…" Bella said, voice weak. What was he saying again? Good Lord, he made her head swim. She closed her eyes.

"Am I boring you?" A whispered voice curled around her ear.

She opened her eyes slowly, burning, unnerved by the uncontrolled pounding of her heart. Oh, what he did to her and he didn't even know.

She shook her head no, caught in the way he was looking at her, amused but confused, dark eyes languid.

Swallowing hard, he said, barely audible, "I wish I knew what you were thinking."

He leaned across the bar, touching her lightly on the cheek with a look of wonder, tangling their fingers together a moment later. "Come here," he said, tugging her around the bar and across the room. He sank into the worn leather chair by the door and cuddled her on his lap.

She shivered as she settled on top his legs, immediately feeling how hard he was, _there_. He knew it too, so he scooted her bottom away to his leg and purposely held her in a way so that she wouldn't slide down. _Such a gentleman,_ she thought as she relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder, still very much aware of that part of him, responding _that_ way, because of _her_.

After a moment she said, "I'm sorry I spaced out. I was enjoying our conversation."

"Well, it is after one on the morning. I can't believe you aren't snoring right now.

"I don't snore."

She squeezed him around the ribs warningly when she felt him laugh.

"Nooo, don't tickle me," he laughed softly. "I'll stop, okay? I'll stop."

After a quiet moment he got serious.

"If I only had one shot I would go back and save you."

She sighed into his jaw. "I would let you."

"And you would save your sister," he said, squeezing her tightly.

She nodded. "There are a lot of things I'd do differently."

* * *

_Bella inched into the driveway. Being back home felt like beetles crawling all over her skin. She sat in the car for 15 minutes before she worked up enough courage to go through the door._

"_There you are! It's about time you got here, baby." Her mother gave a one-armed hug, not wanting to disrupt the martini she held in the other hand. "I should have known you'd be late; your head is always in some cloud. I swear that must be a prerequisite to being artistic," she chattered as she glided into the dining room. "It must be true because we all know how talented you are! You know, I wish I were more like you, sweetie. Not a care in the world. Must be nice, hmm?" Bella was staring out the front window, wondering how long she'd have to stay when Renee called from the kitchen. "Where'd you go? Isabella! Come in here and stop skulking in the foyer. I have a bone to pick with you."_

_She passed Phil in the living room and avoided any contact with an obvious sidestep when he reached out for a friendly pat on the shoulder. He looked a little puzzled but smiled and greeted her anyway, politely ignoring the way distrust seeped from her like a noxious wound. She threw him an apologetic smile before turning to lean in the kitchen doorway. Crossing her arms around her stomach, she waited for her mother to say what was on her mind._

"_Listen, honey, I don't what has happened between you and your sister but you need to fix it," Renee said as she flipped through a recipe book. "She said she's tried to call you and you won't call her back. You've hurt her feelings and I won't stand for it, now… I just won't. That's not how I raised you. We are not that kind of family so for God's sake just forgive her for whatever little thing she's done to you and move on." She looked up, exasperated. "It can be my early birthday present."_

"_Fine."_

_Renee expertly cracked eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork, pausing to add pepper. She turned around with her bowl, still whipping, and studied her youngest daughter._

"_Good heavens, Bella. Aren't you eating up there? You aren't really a starving artist, you know that right? I know the Bohemian look is all the rage but you just… shouldn't. Don't take this the wrong way but you look homeless or something." She narrowed her eyes. "Wait, you're not on drugs are you?" At Bella's silence she huffed. "Well, you'd better not be anorexic."_

"_Mom, please," Bella muttered to the floor._

_Renee let out a considerable sigh as she tidied up the counter. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. Well, I'm sure you haven't taken time out of your busy schedule to notice that Rosalie took a semester off school." She breezed past with hands full of the good silver and pastel linen napkins, shaking her head at Bella's look of surprise. "Don't judge her, honey, she's just not like you; she's such a fragile little personality. Your sister," she said, dropping her voice, "needs to be coddled every now and then. You're so strong, so much like your father, baby. You don't need anyone. You never have. So just try to understand what it's like for the rest of us, alright? Did you even know she broke up with Royce? She's just been so torn up about it." She straightened her apron and got busy setting the table. "You could be such a comfort to her if you only tried a little."_

_Bella clenched her hands, trembling. "Why do I always have to be the one… the one to extend the olive branch, or whatever? Why do I-"_

"_Honey, Rosie looks up to you. I know she's older and acts like she's got it together but-" _

"_I'm sorry mother, but that is the biggest crock of bullshit I've ever heard."_

_Renee looked like she could spit nails. "You better watch your language. I'm not going to tolerate that kind of mouth on you."_

"_I just-"_

"_Stop right there. I'll just stop you right there before you say something you'll regret."_

_When Bella stayed silent, her mother softened her voice._

"_Go talk to your sister, sweetie. She's upstairs so get to it. Dinner's at five." Renee smiled gently and shooed her away with a spatula, her Peter Cottontail apron such a contrast to the coldness in her eyes. "I want everyone happy for Easter dinner!" she called, as Bella faced the carpeted stairwell._

_Dread fueled Bella's growing rage at her mother as her feet carried her closer to the bedroom she'd shared with her sister. Rosie looked perfect as always, lounging on her bed painting her nails. Bella tossed her duffle bag on the floor with a fleeting thought of her own rough hands, nails bitten to the quick, skin dry from turpentine. She never was any good at being pretty._

_She remembered being twelve and spying on her sister in the bathroom. Newly fifteen, Rosalie had breasts, hair between her legs and under her arms, she would turn and pose and look at herself in the mirror and smile. A secret smile Bella could never figure out. She'd held her breath and peered though the crack in the door, trying to remember exactly what Rosie had looked like when she was twelve, but all she could come up with was that she'd always been pretty. _

_Daddy had called Bella his starfish, because she was bright and beautiful like a star, and because she was the best swimmer he'd ever seen. But that was when she'd been little, all pigtails and freckles and loose front teeth. Bella thought twelve was a horrible age, because nothing ever fit, and no matter how she tried to fix her hair, it never turned out right. She wasn't bright and beautiful any more, if she'd ever been at all, and Fish by itself was just not a good nickname. And then she'd felt guilty for doubting her daddy, hating herself for letting her insecurities cancel out something so wonderful._

"_Well, long time no see." Rosie drawled and blew on her fingers, finally glancing up at her little sister. "Look, Mama wants us to be friends again so can you please get the enormous chip off your shoulder for three days? Then you can go back to ignoring me. Whatever."_

_Bella shoved her hands in her pockets. "What have I done to you to make you hate me, Rosie?" she asked softly._

"_I don't hate you," Rosalie said with a long-suffering sigh. "God's sake, stop being so dramatic."_

"_Why are you like this?"_

"_Like what?" _

"_How can you act like… that night didn't happen? How… how is everything normal for you?" Bella sniffed, mortified to feel tears on her cheeks. She hadn't wanted to cry or show any kind of weakness. Asking Rosie for help like this was horrible enough. "Tell me. Please, tell me because I want to get over this, like you. I want to be normal again." _

_The temperature in the room dropped. "No." Rosie said in a voice that made the hairs on the back of Bella's neck rise. "We aren't talking about this."_

_An icy anger uncurled in Bella's gut, and her hatred over the things she couldn't control ripped all the love and tenderness she'd ever had for her sister to shreds. "Then you don't deserve to be my sister. Mama told you to look after me while she was gone but you didn't, did you? That night ruined me. You ruined me. I can't believe I was stupid enough to listen to—I- I can't believe… Rosie, I even can't sleep for these nightmares I have. I lost my roommate because when I do sleep I start screaming my head off. I can't eat… I lost my scholarship because I keep forgetting things. Because I can't concentrate in class. And God forbid a guy come talk to me because I freak the fuck out." Each word was hard, designed to cut, to bruise. "God, I hate you. I hate you with everything that I am- and I have reason to, you know I do. You are a selfish, miserable excuse for a human being and I hate you."_

_Rosie flinched and turned her face toward the wall, silent for a few minutes. "Would it help you to know that I have nightmares too?" She said in a hesitant voice._

_Bella turned to dig around in her bag and produced an almost full bottle of prescription sleeping pills. She tossed them toward the bed, pleased when they hit Rosie right on the forehead, bouncing lightly to the pillow._

"_These will help. You can have the bottle. But do us both a favor and take the whole thing at one time. I know I'd be a lot happier." She hefted her bag on her shoulder. "I can't stay in this house with you. I'm getting out of here. Happy Easter, sis."_

"_Bella? Sissy? I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry" Rosie choked out, her sobs following Bella down the hall._

_Bella regretted her words the moment she spoke them but she wasn't about to turn around. She was always the first one to forgive and forget… the one to always suck it up and put on a smile and say that everything was fine. That wasn't her anymore. No more._

* * *

"Where do you go, Firefly?" Two voices, one pulling her into the past, one back to the present. Edward touched her shoulder with a troubled expression.

Relief tumbled through her as she met the calming green in his eyes. "My sister. It hurts. I haven't really thought about it in a long time."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head and shivered, feeling a ghost walk over her grave. "I don't deserve this… _you,_ Edward. I'm not a good person."

He was quiet as he held her perched on his lap. She wouldn't have thought it was possible to switch gears, so to speak, and go from thinking about her sister to thinking about Edward's erection poking her thigh. But too late, she was already there, her sister was gone and Edward was right in front of her. The pulse between her legs that used to frighten her suddenly held a whole new world of possibility. Because it was Edward. And that had changed everything.

"How can you say that?" he said, finally, his hands closing over her own, his voice intimate in the near darkness. "I don't think you understand." He leaned in, brushed her hair from her neck and pressed a kiss to the ragged beat of her pulse. "I'm not discounting the things you've seen, and been through, or done. But nothing can change who you are to me. How I feel about you."

She tangled her fingers in his hair and he kissed her again, his mouth on her collarbone, causing the warmth in her stomach to unfurl with every flick of his tongue. She moved to straddle him in the chair; the space more than big enough for her knees to spread wide and rub against him in a way that proved her hips definitely had a will of their own.

"Bellaaa," he hissed in a trembling breath. He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her directly in line with the hard bulge in his jeans, at the same time holding her tightly so she'd be still. "Ahh, fuck," he gasped, looking pained.

"Sorry," she whispered but she wasn't really. She'd never held this kind of power over anyone and yet here she was above this beautiful man, making him tremble and stutter. He was squeezing her so hard she might have bruises tomorrow but she wasn't scared. There was nothing but Edward and his teeth and tongue and the way he smelled and his hands… Wonder bloomed and she bent down, slowly, slowly until she held her lips a millimeter away from his, letting him feel her breath.

He waited, transfixed as she stroked both hands upward over his chest, sweeping her thumbs over the rough parts of his jaw, scratching under his hair lightly with her fingernails. Then she pressed her lips to his so sweetly he thought that he must have never known what it meant to be happy before now.

"Are you afraid?" He asked softly, trembling with restraint as she drew back and opened her eyes.

She shook her head. Her gaze fell to his mouth, fascinated. She swallowed heavily, watching her thumb sweep over his bottom lip to dip and swirl in the wetness there, reveling in the smooth edge of his teeth. Her eyes flicked up to meet his dark stare as teeth closed gently around her thumb, his tongue rubbing against the soft pad. When she shifted her body forward he groaned, his head slipping back against the chair leaving his throat exposed, like he was finally giving up. Their lower bodies were in direct contact, and when she felt that hard part of him jump from in-between her legs, she couldn't help it. She moaned. Without warning he pushed her hips down and thrust up sharply, forcing a cry from her throat as she arched back over his legs. He crushed her to his chest and wrapped his hand in her hair, turning her head so he could have her ear.

"Say it," he groaned, desperate, holding her tighter as she writhed on his lap. "Oh God, how I want you, Bella— _say it, please."_

"Now," she whimpered, as he buried his face in her neck, grinding her over him, back and forth. She gave a hard little pant of pleasure when he moaned, his mouth moving up under her ear. "Edward, I'm ready," she said through the haze, "I want this, kiss me kiss me."

He pressed his mouth to hers, licking, biting, rocking, _too wild,_ a part of him thought, _slow down, _but she was right there with him and when his thumbs scraped over the hard points of her breasts she shuddered violently and gave a choked cry, stilling her movements on his lap and leaving ten tiny crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders. He watched her come apart before he dropped his head down and sucked her nipple hard through her t-shirt. The sweet smell of her arousal hit him as she jerked with aftershocks and he exploded against her with a gasp, coating the inside of his boxers.

He pressed his cheek into her galloping heart, eyes shut tight, mouthing _I love you, I love you,_ into her chest. Cursing himself that even now, after all they'd been though, he still didn't have the courage to say the words to her face.

* * *

**Whew! That was a nice April Fool's present, right? I wouldn't mess with you. :)**

**Next week is a big chapter. But I'm pretty sure it's not what you're thinking.**

**Next update: Friday, April 8th. **


	14. Red

**Deep breaths... and read the A/N at the end. Love you guys.**

**I don't own Twilight. More disclaimer in chapter 1.**

* * *

Bella took a deep breath and gazed at the stars glowing through the dark of the window, combing her fingers through Edward's hair as he breathed into her neck. She'd never in her life experienced that before. Her erotic dreams paled in comparison and shame had kept her from doing much of anything _down there_, even when a racy paperback book made her squirm, heart racing.

Except now she felt funny and had the sudden urge to escape. She was lying to him. Not directly, but it was in the things not said, the secrets that, if he knew, would surely be the end of them. What kind of person was she, to experience something so wonderful and profound with him and then pretend that everything was okay? But then how could he really understand? How could he understand that she felt sick in her heart, that anger and guilt had infected her; that even now she was full of hate. Hatred for those boys, her sister, her mother, even for Phil. But mostly for herself.

* * *

"_I can't believe you're even here, Isabella." Renee's face was red and swollen from crying. "You have no right to be here paying your respects."_

_Bella hugged her middle and choked out, "Please, Mama, M-mmama, I'm s-so s-sorry. I didn't mean… I d-didn't know…" She was an absolute mess, hair in strings, her cheeks shiny from tears and snot, a revolting contrast to the simple black sweater dress she wore. She'd tried so hard to clean herself up in time for her sister's funeral but she hadn't stopped crying for days. In a way, it made sense. She hadn't really cried in months, unless it during one of her nightmares. She'd finally figured that one out after waking up to wet pillows day after day. _

_Her mother stepped close to embrace her, fingernails sharp on her arms, even through the fabric. She __bent down to her ear. "I should have you arrested," she hissed. "I don't know what you said but it killed her just the same as those pills you gave her. You always were jealous of your sister. But it backfired on you this time, didn't it? Now you have to live with the fact that you're a murderer, Isabella. You murdered your sister. What would your father think?" She backed away and started to sob. "My precious, precious baby Rose. My little girl."_

_Bella stared at her mother in horror. "You hate me," she whispered. "Do you? Mama, do you r-really? Hate me?"_

_Renee blinked and then shook her head, her face crumpling. "Oh, honey, I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I'm just not sure I can be around you right now." She swallowed and dabbed her eyes. "I didn't mean those things I said." She suddenly grabbed Bella and hugged her tight, stroking her hair. "Isabella, oh baby, I didn't mean those things. Forgive me. I know it wasn't your fault. I don't what I'd do without you. You're all I have now."_

_Bella allowed her mother to squeeze her in a tight hug, feeling a bewildering mix of relief, disappointment and loss. Loss of who she'd believed her mother was, loss of innocence and childhood… something different than what those boys took from her months ago. For all of Bella's floundering at life, she was more of a grown-up than her own mother. She was truly all alone. And it was a revelation._

_Bella jumped when Phil touched her arm. She hadn't seen him there._

_Renee sniffed and patted her hair when she saw her husband. "You have to give me time to come to terms with what happened, Isabella. I still love you, baby, even after all this. You know that."_

"_Come on, Bella." Phil's compassionate eyes swam with tears as he pulled her away. "She's not herself, you know she's not. Just give her time." He waited a beat then asked, "are you going back to school?"_

_Bella stared at him blankly then shook her head._

_Phil nodded. "I got the letter about your scholarship a few weeks ago. You know that you don't need that, right? I'll pay for you to go wherever you want to study."_

"_B-but Renee—"_

"_Don't worry about your mother. I'll take care of everything." Phil squeezed her hand but kept his distance, as if he sensed that she was two seconds away from bolting. "If you don't want my money, your father left a trust for you and …Rosie when you turned 18. Rosie was using hers to pay for her sorority but you can certainly use yours for whatever you feel like you need right now. It's not much but it'll tide you over."_

"_I don't want to go back."_

"_Okay honey, that's fine, whatever you think. But will you let me know what your plans are? Your mother will come around and I know she'll need you."_

"_Okay," she whispered, appeased. Time. Renee needed time. She could do that._

_He pressed some money into her palm and patted her on the shoulder._

_She stared at them as they walked into the church. She didn't follow._

_One month later Bella called Phil's cell phone and explained that she'd found a cottage on the beach in a small Gulf coast community. The local gallery had agreed to sell some of her work, so could she please have the information about the trust? She told him it was peaceful and quiet there and that the people were nice. She wanted to rent so she could paint and get around to figuring out the rest of her life._

_But Phil did better than that. He bought the little house for her outright, and put it in her name. He also sent the account number for the trust Charlie had left for her and mailed it in a separate envelope, for anything else she might need. Bella gave him the number of the pre-paid cell phone she'd gotten in case anyone needed her. Neither of them said Renee's name but they didn't have to. Bella didn't ask and Phil didn't offer._

_Bella never heard from her mother. She figured that if Renee wanted to get in touch with her she'd know that Phil had her information, so she tried to be patient. She decided to give her mother six months. Exactly 180 days from her sister's funeral, the last time she'd seen or talked to Renee, she'd call to say… hello. Or something. She even marked it on her calendar. The weeks leading up to the big blue date circled in Sharpie on her kitchen wall were nerve-wracking; and she regretted making the reminder so big. What would she say when her mom answered? It was bound to be awkward, so Bella would try her best to keep up the conversation. Her mom would be proud of how well she was doing, she knew that much; her paintings in Angela's gallery were really popular. Renee was never into art very much, but anyone could appreciate the fact that Bella was actually making a living off her talents. Certainly, some days were peanut butter and jelly days, but overall she was doing well. She even had medical insurance and had started a retirement fund._

_Plus, it was peak tourist season. Bella planned on offering Renee and Phil her bedroom if they wanted to visit, she didn't mind taking the couch. It'd been her big purchase after all, so it was a good one. Phil and Renee had so much money, Bella knew that; they could vacation anywhere they wanted. But surely they'd want to visit her, they'd be curious to see where she lived. She'd play up the relaxation angle. Summerside was very beautiful; it was quaint and quiet. Bella didn't know who wouldn't love visiting here. She'd tell them that she'd made a few friends. The nice lady that owned the grocery store always wanted to talk and then there was her neighbor, Peter, who was absolutely wonderful. Phil would love Peter. They could talk at the bar while she and Renee walked the beach. Just like old times._

_And she was ready to talk. Painting wasn't doing the same distraction trick that it did when her dad had been killed. The nightmares never went away; they hadn't yet, anyway. It would be hard, so, so hard, to tell her mom about the night she was attacked. But she would. She had to or she would burst. Her mama would understand that it wasn't her fault. They would cry about it, and Renee would tell she loved her and maybe suggest they go talk to a therapist or something. This time Bella would be good, she'd go in that doctor's office and talk and Renee would see that Bella cared, and that Renee was wrong, before… because Bella did need someone. She really did. Sometimes it was hard to ask for help, but she'd promise her mom that she would be more open and not so closed off about her feelings. _

_Then maybe she would forgive her about Rosie. Maybe, just maybe, she'd understand that Bella didn't mean for that to happen. That she would live that horrible night at the lake house party over and over again if it meant that she could have her sister back. _

_When the blue-circle day arrived, she sat on her back porch after her morning swim, biting her nails down to the quick. She procrastinated, chatted with the neighbors, made Peter a batch of brownies, and cleaned her bathroom… again._

_Finally, enough was enough. Her hand trembled, her stomach in knots as she held the phone, tracing the numbers before she actually pushed them in. Then, it was done, and she held the phone to her ear, wondering suddenly if she should leave a message in case it went to voicemail. She hadn't even thought of that possibility. _

_But when the line clicked open it wasn't for voicemail; it was a disconnection notice. She double-checked the number, thinking she'd probably misdialed, but the outcome was the same. Quickly, she tried Phil's number… it had worked a few months ago. But no, Phil's number had been turned off too. She waited another hour before she called her house in Jacksonville. When she realized her childhood phone number had been disconnected as well, her stomach sank, and she quickly dialed one of the neighbors. She knew Mrs. Leonard's number by heart, ever since she was five, when her daddy taught her things like how to dial 911 and what to do if she smelled smoke in the house._

"_Hello?"_

"_Mrs. Leonard?" Bella said softly. She hadn't talked to Mrs. Leonard in over a year, she realized._

"_Bella? That you, dear?"_

"_Yes ma'am, it's me. How are you?"_

"_It's so good to hear your voice, honey. How's school?" Sweet Mrs. Leonard. She was a grandmother now._

"_Um, school is fine," Bella lied. "Mrs. Leonard, I was calling because, well, I lost mom's new cell phone number and I was hoping—"_

"_Gracious, you tell your mama I've been trying to call her too. These people they sold the house to have put lawn chairs in the front. And they aren't those nice wooden ones neither; they're tacky looking, if you know what I mean."_

_Bella froze, dread prickling up her spine. "The… people? In our… house?"_

"_I told them the Neighborhood Home Association was going to be paying a visit if they didn't clean up that porch. They've been there a few months, long enough to know better, if you ask me." _

"_Is it a family? You know I wasn't home… I never knew who had… moved in?"_

"_It's a family with a passel of kids. And let me tell you, they don't have any manners at all, not like you and your sister did," Mrs. Leonard huffed, her breath blowing loudly through the receiver. "And honey, it was so nice of you to donate the furniture and things in your room to the shelter. You've always been like that, so giving. I wish my girls had been more like you. I still have every little thing from when Janie was in school… you wouldn't believe it, folded notes, report cards, prom pictures… she never would let me throw any of that away. Now it's just sitting boxed up in the attic, gathering dust and who knows what else._

_Bella was so shocked that she let Mrs. Leonard ramble on while she attempted to pull herself together. The one place she thought would always be there was gone. Someone else lived in her house, slept in her room, played hide and seek in her oak trees out back. Her mom hadn't even asked if it was okay to give away her things. What had happened to her stuffed animals? Or that collection of Madame Alexander dolls that Grandmother Swan added to like clockwork- every birthday and Christmas- until she died?_

"_I'm sure they'll figure out the rules, Mrs. Leonard. You take care now, alright? Stay out of the sun." In her heart, Bella knew this was the last time she'd ever talk to the old lady. There was nothing left to tie her to Jacksonville. Tears pricked her eyes in memory of the life she had as a child, all surf, sun and catching crabs and Mrs. Leonard's chocolate chip cookies. It was over. Like so many other things._

_After a few days to put everything in perspective Bella thought she'd be okay. She thought there were probably ways to track Renee and Phil down over the internet, but they obviously wanted some distance. A clean break, maybe. Bella didn't really understand that but she could respect it. It didn't mean she wasn't disappointed. There was no one left to talk to about her life... before. And she would have liked to have some pictures of when she was little. She and Rosie laughing on the Winnie the Pooh ride at Disney World, blowing out birthday candles, those awful family portraits Renee always made them get at Sears… fishing with Charlie on the weekends, anything. She thought about her daddy, how he'd sometimes cut the line on a fish if it was causing too much stress on the rod. He'd snip the line with his little fishing scissors, losing the bait and hook, not to mention the fish. He'd always say it was better to take the loss than to risk breaking the fishing pole. _

_She realized then that her mom was taking the loss. She'd cut the line months ago, Bella just didn't know it._

_Two years later Bella walked to her mailbox to find a short note from Phil. There was a new baby, a boy, a half brother. Bella had been following Phil's career so she wasn't surprised to find the letter postmarked from Arizona._

_She went online and ordered a light blue pajama set embroidered with baseballs from BabyGap to be delivered to the new address. The enclosed note was short and fairly impersonal, but left the door open, so to speak. Bella hoped her mother was happy, and she wondered what color the baby's eyes were and what they had named him. _

_But the mailbox stayed empty and the phone never rang. Not even a wrong number. She'd been careful to always keep it charged, and always with her, even though the screen would have shown any missed calls. After almost three and a half years Bella threw it away._

* * *

"I can hear you thinking again, Firefly."

"I'm not… I mean, not anything bad," she muttered, squirming.

He pulled her down so he could see her face and frowned at her confused expression. He tugged the ends of her hair. "What is it?" When she didn't answer he murmured, "You are so beautiful."

"No," she snapped then blushed immediately. "I'm sorry." She laughed a little, "…just… you don't have to do that."

He sighed. "Do what."

"Say that. You don't have to say… that." She slumped against him and whispered, "Edward… I don't feel right."

"You're shaking." He rubbed her back. "Are you cold?"

"N-no," she moaned through chattering teeth, suddenly aware of what was coming. "W-why is this h-happening now?" Pain lanced through her chest and she doubled over in his arms, wheezing.

"Breathe, Bella. Breathe with me. Look in my eyes… that's right." His hands flew over her, not knowing where to land. "You're having some sort of delayed panic attack."

"Sorry… sorry…" she said, her voice a bare rasp in the dark as she tried to regulate her breaths.

"Don't talk. It'll be over in a second." He breathed with her. "In and out… good girl." Within five minutes she lay exhausted and dozing on his chest. "Are we talking about this?" He asked quietly.

"I'm not sure why that happened," she murmured in a small voice.

Her vulnerability tore at his heart. "It was too soon, maybe. Before. I should have slowed down."

"No, maybe it's- I feel guilty. Maybe because I liked what you did."

He gave her a small smile. "It's normal to like it. You _should_ like it." He paused, and then with a little laugh, "I mean, _I_ really liked it. So stay with me tonight. We don't have to do anything else, okay? The night's half over anyway and I'll make you pancakes in the morning."

She stared blankly over his shoulder, biting her lip, hard. "I'm not a good person," she said for the second time that night. "Edward, you don't know… I mean, well, you just don't know. I have all these scars, inside and out. They aren't going away."

"Sometimes, the scars are what make us who we are." He whispered, kissing the mark on her forehead, thumbing gently over her nose. "I love who you are."

Bella wanted to believe that so much it hurt. "But you could have anyone you want," she said, unwilling to give up. "You deserve—"

"I want _you_, you goofy girl. I have since the minute I saw you. Hearing about what happened to you didn't change anything. And I wouldn't say you're damaged, either." He rubbed his face and yawned, thinking that the angle their conversation had taken felt somewhat like a distraction, although he didn't know from what. But they'd been through enough for tonight. "Enough," he murmured. "Come upstairs, you. I want a beautiful girl to roll around in my sheets so I can smell her on my pillow in the morning."

She sighed and crawled off his lap. "Gross."

"Definitely not gross. You smell delicious." He growled into her neck and swept her into his arms to carry her to the bedroom.

"Oooh, stop! Put me down!" She said feebly, giggling as he strode toward the steps.

"Hush. I've caught you, little firefly and you're crazy if you think you're ever getting away."

* * *

"When will you let me kiss you again?" he asked, his voice already rough at the edges, forgetting for a moment that he'd told her they were going straight to sleep. They lay tangled on his bed, almost nose to nose.

She didn't look like she minded his question though, eyes bright. "Maybe… now?" she whispered with a tiny hopeful shrug. She swept her tongue across her lip without thought, still minty from using his toothbrush. She colored slightly when he drew in a quick breath.

He lifted his hand and held it against her face, tracing a line down her nose to the sweet curve of her upper lip with his thumb. Her eyelids fluttered but she smiled widely.

"What?" he couldn't help but smile back, and leaned over to nuzzle the corner of her mouth.

"You're… tickling." Her words escaped from the back of her throat, the timbre sparking heat between them.

He fully intended to answer with some clever comment, but then they were kissing, slowly, with heavy breaths and little whimpers, and he wasn't sure who made the first move this time. Hearing her sigh when his hand slipped under her back to pull her closer forced such a thrill through him that he felt drunk, thinking there must be two separate worlds, kissing Bella and then everything else.

When she drew back a little, his lips followed single-mindedly until her hand pushed against his chest, leaving him rumpled, almost hyperventilating. When he came back to himself, he realized his erection was pressing against her hip. He gathered her hands and kissed her fingers after he put some distance between their lower halves.

"Too much?" he whispered as he ghosted over her knuckles.

He looked up in time to see her nod.

"I know it looks like- I mean, I'm here, in your _bed_… it's just-" she stuttered.

He smiled with such tenderness that her eyes pricked with tears, and he swiftly pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Stop. We're doing slow, remember? You're safe here, with me," he murmured as he smoothed the hair away from her temples. She nodded, melting into him. He thought she might be asleep until he felt her soft words against his neck.

"Why do you call me that?"

"What… why do I call you Firefly?" He asked, a little bashful. "It might be kind of silly."

"Oh, you could never be silly," she said with a soft smile, backing up to see his face, scratching a nail through his almost-beard.

"Right. Well, you remind me of a little firefly, I guess. My mom and I used to catch them when I was a kid. They were so gentle. They don't bite at all, you know? When it got really dark they were impossible to see unless they flickered their light at you. I'd get close to one and then the light would go off and I'd have to wait for it to come back on. But by the time she flickered again she had flown away and it would start all over."

Her big, dark eyes were unreadable.

"You flicker at me sometimes, Bella," he said softly. "All this time I've been waiting to catch you but when I get too close you fly away." He tilted her face to make sure she understood. "I don't mean here," he said, and he grazed her mouth with his thumb, running his hand down her side. "Here," he said, and lightly tapped her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, no… don't ever be sorry. Not to me." He gathered her close, humming into her hair until her eyes slipped shut and she was breathing soft and steady against his chest.

* * *

She threw the towel over the railing and jogged out to the water, exhaling as soon as her feet hit the surf. A storm was trying to kick up but it was nice to see that the day would be warmer than yesterday. Not that it mattered to the water, she thought, as goose bumps broke out on her legs, even under the wetsuit.

After ten minutes of swimming she was warm but ready to get back to Edward. It had been hard to leave his bed this morning, but she woke up feeling restless and off center, knowing that she needed to get out in the water, if only for a few minutes. Definitely the right decision. She floated and smiled widely into the sunrise, not that there was much of one this morning. It was overcast… with storm clouds. But everything was going to be okay with Edward. Really okay. He said that he loved who she was. She thought about what that might mean, amazed that after all this time _she_ was the one who had something good, somebody wonderful to look forward to.

The water tugged abruptly and Bella felt a brief flare of panic when she noticed how far out she was. Daydreaming about Edward had made her miss the signs of a rip current and now she was right in the middle of it. She treaded water and looked to see if she could see the track so she could get out. She couldn't, so she swam on her side, careful to conserve her energy. Nothing but early morning seagulls on the shoreline but she wasn't worried just yet.

Rip currents were extremely dangerous but an experienced swimmer knows how to get out of one. Its no use fighting- ever, even a small current is too strong. Swimming parallel to the shore usually does the trick but at the very least, as long as the swimmer can keep their head above water, all they have to do is float and the current will eventually cycle them back to shore. The key was not to panic.

After fifteen minutes though, Bella knew she needed help. The wind was kicking up and she was getting tired. She could see a couple of Snowbirds walking on the beach and she waved, hoping they saw her. An intense burst of pain exploded across her calf all the way up her back and she gasped, taking in and then spitting out a mouthful of seawater. She was cramping up.

_Not good, not good, relax Bella, float, just float, it'll pass. Relax, relax._

Trying to float with the choppy waves and rub her leg at the same time was impossible so she endured the pain, forcing down the panic even when she saw black spots in her vision. Not fair. So, so not fair.

_Oh, Edward, Edward, I'm scared! And I'm so sorry._

* * *

Edward groaned when his arm slid over the cold sheets where Bella should have been. For a moment he couldn't decide if the night before was a dream or if he and Bella had actually had the hottest make-out session he'd ever experienced on Pete's favorite leather chair. He was leaning toward dream when he rolled over and got a nose full of Bella-scented pillow. A thrill zinged through him and he almost laughed out loud. Everything was going to be okay. It was real.

He sat up and scrubbed his face.

"Bella?" At the silence he stood up to head to the bathroom when he saw her note on the dresser.

_E,_

_Went for a quick swim. Hopefully I'll be back before you wake up._

_PS, bringing chocolate chips for the pancakes. _

_Wouldn't want you to go without your fix._

_Love,_

_Your Firefly (happily captured)_

His heart stuttered… _Love_. Now he _really_ couldn't wait to see her. Throwing on a t-shirt and jeans he glanced at his watch and then looked out the window toward her house. Her towel was gone so that meant she was probably taking a quick shower before she came back over. His morning erection sprang back to life. _Shower… Bella… _That would definitely have to wait until she was ready but the outlook was good.

He flew down the steps with his mind on eggs and pancake mix when he noticed the wind whistling through the eaves of the roof. It sounded like a yellow flag day at the very least, if not red. She's lucky to have already gone and come back from her swim. He would have argued against her going, otherwise.

The morning light spilling through the window downstairs was tinged with a slow red pulse.

_Pulse…_

_Pulse…_

_Pulse…_

He frowned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and made a detour around to the back door. It was rare but not the first time paramedics had been here. If it wasn't some kid who drank too much, it was a Snowbird with high blood pressure.

He automatically scanned Bella's porch before he jogged over to the small group on the beach. The paramedics were moving slowly, quietly. That, combined with the stretcher he saw wasn't good news for whomever they were dealing with.

"Anything I can do to help?" He called out as he slowed to a stop.

He inhaled sharply when he saw _her_ hand under the sheet.

_No. No no no no no no no no…_

Time slowed to a crawl. All the people were looking at him, talking, mouths were moving but the sound was gone. This was all wrong, he thought, he had to tell them why it wasn't her. He could still smell her on his fucking pillow. _It wasn't her, it wasn't her._

_Look at her porch; her towel is gone—see? She finished her swim a long time ago and she uses her towel right when she gets out, that's why it's not there… besides, it's way past sunrise. I know that's when she swims, I know. So this isn't my Bella, I promise it's not her because she was on the swim team, she's good, she swims everyday, she'd never let this happen… She's in the kitchen getting chocolate chips for our pancakes; she left me a note. Or maybe at the store, maybe she was out and she walked over- she's probably stuck in a conversation with Mrs. Cope right now- listen, it's the middle of the month and she still has paintings to finish and I love her, really love her, she's everything and I'm telling her today. Who the fuck is screaming?_

They were holding him, why? His eyes were wild as they landed everywhere except the small white hand on the stretcher. The older lady from the blue cottage was sobbing into her husband's shoulder as he held her, his own eyes red rimmed. One of the medics was talking into her radio, giving him pitiful glances as she packed up at the same time. He craned his neck to look at Bella's house, struggling against the chokehold he was in. He'd show them, he'd call her and she'd come out to see what all the fuss was about.

"BELLA! BELL—" In the sand, a ribbon of bright red flashed in the wind, the corner of a dry towel that had blown off its porch.

His legs collapsed and he tumbled to the sand on all fours. Noise and sound snapped back into place and he thought of the way his ears would pop on an airplane.

"Sir! Sir, please. Do you know this young woman? Sir? …Sir?"

* * *

**Yikes! **

**I don't believe in giving plot away unsolicited . So I won't. But PLEASE, feel free to ask questions in a review or send me a PM. I promise to answer to the best of my ability, and reassure you or not, depending on just how much you think you can take.**

**Many thanks to susayq, who got this in right under the wire. Superwoman... she does it all. :)**

**And to faireyfan, who is just an all around lovely person. You can thank her for the extra 800 or so words. *hugs***

**Hang in there people, I mean it. Talk to me.**


	15. The Roll of Film

**Thank you for being here. All I ask is that you read the whole chapter.**

**There's nothing worse here than what you read at the end of the last chapter. And the end of _this_ chapter is infinitely better.**

**I gave susayq the week off, since I'm early.**

**Hugs and kisses to faireyfan. It's like she sweeps in and straightens all my crooked picture frames.**

**Any lingering mistakes are all mine.**

**I don't own Twilight. See you at the bottom. :)**

* * *

_March 2009_

His cell phone rang but he made no move to answer it. Today was unseasonably warm and he had her windows open as he sat on her couch and looked at her sketches. She'd kept everything, something he both loved and hated. There was so much… and he had so much he'd wanted to know about her. So many questions… and he came up with new ones everyday. One afternoon he'd come across a drawing of himself hidden under her bed, signed _Isabella Swan Cullen_. He couldn't help but laugh a little (since laughing was better than crying) at how epically embarrassed she'd be if she were here, knowing he was looking at how she'd signed her name. He'd flipped the paper over, looking for a date but it was empty, stark white; there was nothing at all to reveal exactly when she'd had those kinds of feelings for him. He'd wanted to know. He'd wanted everything but somehow wound up with nothing.

_You could have saved her._

_You should have woken up._

Now he was sitting on her couch pilfering through her things because he was a greedy bastard who would take any small part of her that he could get. That and he must like to torture himself. A knock on the door pulled his attention from the napkin sketch he'd found tucked in her drawing pad. The whole afternoon had wasted away and he hadn't even known it.

Mrs. Cope opened the porch door and summed him up as she lowered a grocery bag to the floor.

"Edward?" she said, her voice soft. "Honey, your father's trying to get hold of you. About the bar. And he's so worried about you."

He nodded slowly and lay back on the couch, scooting over when she sat beside him.

"I'm going to help you pack up some of Bella's things."

"No."

"It's been over a month, sugar. Just to get her things in order. We won't throw anything away."

He exhaled wearily. "I've got it under control, Mrs. Cope." Edward kept his response calm, polite but the steel underneath was obvious and she let it go.

"Alright." Casting around for anything to keep him talking she studied the napkin he held so delicately in his hands. "Look at that- that's you on that napkin isn't it? Lord, is that beautiful," she breathed. "Now what would ever possess her to draw on a napkin like that?"

Edward sat motionless except for a faint tremble in his fingers as he traced the shape of his profile. She hadn't signed her name, instead writing: _the enigmatic edward cullen_ in her loopy script. This one _was_ dated, the month he had moved in.

Mrs. Cope fidgeted for a moment then popped up and strode into the kitchen with a determined sense of purpose. Her voice floated through the doorway. "I've left vegetable soup for you in the refrigerator. And a little sliced ham and cheese for sandwiches… okay?"

"Thank you."

She puttered around Bella's house, tidying here and there, sweeping the back porch even though there really was no need. She came in again, debating on whether or not he'd let her go back and clean the bedroom when an exquisite piece of artwork caught her eye, propped up against the wall right by the desk. The colors and details were so beautiful she spent a long time just looking before she turned it over so she could examine every side. It was signed on the back:

_To Edward,_

_You've put the pieces of me back together, my sweet knight behind the bar,_

_Like Sleeping Beauty I await my kiss so that I may finally begin to live._

_Happy Valentine's Day!_

_With all my love,_

_Your firefly_

Edward's eyes flicked over to her when she gasped then slid away indifferently. She got up to straighten the bookshelves and after awhile, discovered there was nothing else to do.

"Well, honey… I guess I'll check on you later," Mrs. Cope sat down again and patted his leg. "Why don't you come for dinner tomorrow night?" He was looking better today, she thought. She tried hard to make contact with Edward at least once a day. She'd never forgive herself if he wasted away to nothing while life went on without him. Mr. Cope, God rest his soul, had been in the ground fifteen years this August. So she understood. She knew. "Come on, baby… I've got a pie with your name on it."

She sighed when he only stared out the window, his thoughts miles away.

"It will get easier, Edward. I know it doesn't seem like it but it will." She paused, and it seemed like there was more to say but she sighed again instead. "Don't forget to call your father back." She kissed him on the cheek before she left.

* * *

He'd been living in her house for weeks. Sometimes he roamed restlessly through her rooms, touching the things she used to touch, hoping for some kind of connection, even if it was just an echo of the weight of her hand in his. Sometimes it was easier to pretend that she was on a walk or in the front yard cutting hydrangeas for the kitchen table. When he slept in her bed he imagined she was in the bathroom or downstairs stealing a bite of ice cream before she climbed in to snuggle next to him. Her mouth would be cold and all vanilla fudge ripple when he kissed her goodnight.

The freesia Bella smell of the sheets did strange things to his dreams, making them elaborate, colorful, brilliant. He was careful to stay on one side to preserve her scent, feeling crazy but not caring, especially when he discovered a long, shiny strand of her hair hiding under a pillow. He could just imagine her hiding an amused smile.

"Edward, you're nuts," she'd say, shaking her head, dark hair slipping back and forth over her shoulders.

"Fucking nuts. I know."

"I can't believe you saved that one little hair you found in my bed. You know I have a hairbrush in the bathroom that needs to be cleaned… you're welcome to it." The amusement would turn into a giggle she'd try to disguise by biting her lip. She didn't know that her eyes would give her away, every single time.

"Well, see… this one was special."

"Is that so?"

"This little hair? It stowed away in the sheets, under the pillow, probably while you were tossing your head around and dreaming something dirty about me. Don't deny it, you know you were."

She would blush and wrinkle her nose. Maybe push her bottom lip out. "Stop that. How did we get away from the fact that you've gone off the deep end, lying in my bed with my hair wrapped around your pinkie finger? You know I'm not here, right? Do you really think imagining me like this is helping?"

"No. But I miss you Firefly. I miss you so much it hurts."

"I know."

"I had stuff to tell you. I was going to tell you I loved you, you know? Maybe if I'd done that earlier it would have changed things." He rubbed the sheet where she would lay on her side, facing him. "I should have… I should've woken up that morning. But I'm so fucking mad at you, Bella. You were swimming by yourself and it was rough out there. And you just left me… there in the bed. Maybe if I'd told you, you'd have stayed."

"I'm sorry," she'd whisper. She'd fold her hands under her cheek and look up with those beautiful eyes of hers.

"Bella," he whispered back. He'd always loved her name. When he said it now he imagined the word coming out of his mouth, floating, in limbo forever, searching but never finding for whom it was intended. "Bella, why did you leave?"

"I didn't want to. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know, Edward." She'd look at him sadly. "But you'll figure it out."

* * *

He dreamed he had his fingers and mouth where she was slick, her soft cries of pleasure in his ears, her hand touching him too, where he was hard, aching. She whispered his name as she shuddered around him and then he was coming too, it felt amazing until he woke up cold and sticky wet, crying on her side of the bed. When he fully realized what he'd done he ran for the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. He was disgusting, contaminating her sheets like a kid.

Later, he stood in front of Bella's washer, undecided. He couldn't stand to leave her sheets defiled one more minute yet when he washed them, every trace of her would be gone. Forever.

* * *

_April 2009_

He came across a little notepad in a kitchen drawer when he was looking for a twisty tie for the bread. There was a quick sketch of a seagull at the bottom of one page and a grocery list of sorts on the next.

_milk_

_tomatoes_

_Cocoa Puffs_

_watch Lost at 8_

He knew then that he couldn't stay there any longer.

He ran on the beach at sunrise, barefoot, mindful of jellyfish and driftwood. Fear pulsed through him to match the staccato slap of his feet on the sand, fear of forgetting her, fear of _not_ forgetting her and the fear that he would always feel like he did right now. The sun-glare of the gobbling, punishing water and the stab of air through his lungs broke open all the things he'd kept hidden, even from himself. All the words that he'd been saving for her, undeclared, unclaimed, finally escaped him, and his cheeks were wet as he walked back home, exhausted. His dreams were gone. He'd left them behind, scattered on the sand, waiting to be eaten by the ever-encroaching tide. If not her, then nobody.

Edward didn't know what his future held, but he knew it wouldn't be here.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Dad." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Dad."

"Edward. I was beginning to think we'd never hear from you again." Carlisle hesitated. "How are you, son?"

"I'm alright." His eyes were glazed as he stood at the window that looked out over the beach, watching a pretty brunette with sex legs lean up against the deck rail, twisting her wild chestnut hair into submission with a long handled paintbrush.

"Look. I know it's hard but… you really need to come to a decision about the bar. Shelley said it's been closed for over two months. Now, I know you own it free and clear but you have to make money to pay the bills. I realize you've got money in savings but that's no way to—"

"Sell it." She smiled at him and blushed, swinging her crimson toes back and forth from her perch.

"But…" Carlisle lapsed into silence. For once, he was speechless.

"You made that offer a little over a year ago. So now I want you to do it." He knew he should turn away from the window but he just couldn't. She tugged the paintbrush and her hair tumbled down around her face.

"I remember."

"I won't be coming back here." He smiled tentatively and her eyes lit up as she grinned back.

"Isn't that a little extreme—"

"I'd think you of all people would understand." Pretty girl tapped her fingers on the deck rail and mouthed his name. _Edward… Edward…_

"I do." Carlisle said, defeated. "I'll get right on it. But are you sure, son? Maybe with time—"

"Just put the money in a savings account. Or invest it, whatever. I don't care." He squeezed his eyes shut, dizzy, trying to remember the last time he'd eaten. When he opened them she was gone.

"Edward. Son, listen to me. Don't lose your cell phone. Do what you have to do to get over this but you call me and let me know where you are." His father's voice cracked and finally broke. "Promise me, Edward."

"I promise." He said flatly.

"You're all I have left of your mother."

Edward sighed. His father really knew how to hit where it hurt. "I know. I'll call."

"Okay." More sniffing. "I love you, son. I know I haven't always shown it, or been a good-"

"Dad, it's okay. I know. I love you too."

* * *

_May 2009_

Edward sat on the bed in his old room, staring at the Dartmouth pennant clinging stubbornly to the wall. He was leaving tomorrow with a seashell necklace in his pocket, one suitcase, a napkin and Bella's painting. He was also keeping a drawing he'd found in her top dresser drawer… a sketch of a little sway-backed toddler playing in the surf. It wasn't really her style; there was a wildness about it, lots of movement. It wasn't signed but he was fairly sure she hadn't drawn it. The little girl in the drawing captivated him somehow, her eyes sparkling through the darkness of the pencil strokes. It had to be Bella. Even as a child, he imagined her dark hair whipping around her face with the salt breeze, just like the sketch. But who had drawn it? The artist had written _Little Starfish_ in the corner, but that was the only clue. He supposed he'd never know.

He tried to shake off his melancholy and sat heavily on the bed, turning his attention to the envelope in his hand, photographs he'd given to Mrs. Cope to be developed a few days ago. It was that dusty roll of film he'd found under the bed his first day back, the day of Peter's funeral. Years ago, it seemed. Taking care of that little roll of film seemed like an appropriate bookend. Whatever pictures were inside had been waiting a long time to see the light of day. Well, today was their day to be set free. Congratulations. Too bad it wasn't as easy to do the same to himself.

He smiled as he opened the envelope and flipped through the photos. They were time-stamped June 5, 2004. Almost five years ago. He hadn't been sure if it was his roll of film or Peter's but there was Emmett, a goofy grin plastered all over his face. In the picture he was pointing to his baseball cap, the one he'd worn constantly after he accepted the scholarship to play football for Florida. There they were at some party, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, requisite red plastic cups full of keg beer in their hands. The sadness crashed over him again as he realized his own face looked like a stranger's. He'd been such a silly, stupid kid, so sure he had the world at his feet. But that kid had no clue that in a few short years he'd lose a whole week from drinking himself sick, that he wouldn't move for days because the pain was just too fucking much, or that he'd one day vow to never go near the ocean again.

There was a part of him that wished he'd never met Bella, that he'd never had to deal with this hurt in the middle of his chest. That wish didn't live long, though. He was a selfish guy, but he couldn't bring himself to be truly selfish about that. Because she'd been happy these past few months, he knew she had. And he was pretty sure that she'd been happy because of him. How could he wish that away? He'd never have traded that, not for anything. But she had deserved more from life. So much more. She deserved a chance.

The pictures slipped out of his hands and scattered on the floor. He flopped back on the bed, restless until he settled on his stomach, hanging his head halfway off the mattress. His gaze moved over the photos in-between long blinks until he stopped breathing altogether.

Reaching down with a trembling hand, he pulled one picture in for a closer look. It was a picture of him and Emmett, hugging and laughing like idiots, but that wasn't where he was looking.

Bella.

_Bella_ was behind him in the picture talking to another girl.

Frantically, he searched for another glimpse but there was only one other, and it was of her walking out the door. He stared again at the face he would have died for a million times over if only given the chance. How could he have stood so close to the love of his life and not known she was there?

He was past crying. He lay back and closed his eyes, and thought about being back at that party, even though he hardly remembered it. They hadn't been there very long before moving on to something else. But what if he had stayed. What if after that last picture with Emmett he had turned around and noticed a beautiful girl with legs that wouldn't quit, one that blushed and bit her lip when she was nervous, one that had paint under her nails? He'd grab her hand and he wouldn't let go because she was the One, the other half of him, the beginning and end to the story he'd been trying his whole life to write.

He fell asleep holding the picture over his heart and a wistful smile on his face. He even managed make it to morning. It was the best night of sleep he'd had in more then four months.

* * *

Edward groaned and stretched out on the bed, blinking at the bright morning sunshine. Damn. He hated when he slept in his clothes. His eyes widened when he heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Edward! Edward, you up yet? You got a phone call."

_Holy shit._

He tried to talk but nothing came out. The door banged as it flew back on its hinges. His mouth fell open and he stared, wide eyed at the person standing in front of him in flip flops and such an obnoxious shirt it would have made Jimmy Buffet proud.

"Uncle Peter?" He whispered.

"Here," Peter said, tossing something on the bed as he turned to go back down the hall. "You left your phone downstairs again. Oh, and I almost forgot-" he said as he looked over his shoulder and winked. "I have an extra… use it on somebody pretty." Edward caught an unused roll of film in his hand and gulped. He was about five seconds from seeing the contents of his déjà vu-ing stomach all over the floor.

He picked up the phone, holding it with two fingers like it was about to bite when he heard the thin voice coming through.

"Edward? You there?"

"H-hello?"

"You dicksucker, how long does it take to come to the damn phone over there in bumfuck Summerside, anyway?"

"Emmett?" Edward was vaguely aware he was beginning to sound like an idiot.

"Who else were you expecting?" Emmett laughed and high-fived someone in the background. "Hey, I'm picking you up tonight at 6:00. We're following this chick Leah to a lake house party in the boonies. Come on. Take a vacation from your vacation."

"Oh. Okay."

"Sweet! Hey, bring your camera too. I'm totally getting Garrett shitfaced and then I'm blackmailing his ass. Mine got left out in the rain so it's fried." More laughing, now he sounded like he was running, car door slam.

Edward gaped at the picture he still held in his hand.

_June, 5__th__._

"Emmett?"

_June 5__th__, 2004_

"Yeah, dude."

"I'll be ready," Edward said softly as he stared down at the picture of Bella at the party that hadn't happened yet.

* * *

**Alright. NOW let me have it.**

**I'm truly sorry to have upset some of you. It's why I posted early.**

**I replied to almost everyone but some didn't go through. :(**

**Next update Friday, April 22.**


	16. 21 Again

**Hey everyone :) A/N at the bottom...**

**I don't own Twilight.**

* * *

_June 2004_

Edward stumbled up out of the bed and turned around, pressing his shoulder blades against the wall, trying to get his feet under him. Then he pinched his arm, hard_. I have finally flipped out. Crazy, insane, unhinged. Any moment I'll wake up in a jacket with wraparound arms pissing myself._

He touched the side button on his old Nokia, the one Pete had tossed to him, and lit up the screen.

Saturday, June 5,_ 2004._

_2004._

Damn. He was dreaming. He _had_ to be dreaming. Hysterical laughter bubbled up before he forced it back down. This didn't feel like a dream though… it felt like… his life. If this were real, Dr. Shan would have a field day; he actually believed in this stuff. Was he on staff at Stanford in 2004? He could call… but it probably wouldn't be the brightest idea. He shuffled back over to the bed and sat down gingerly on the side, as if any sudden movement might send him hurtling back to 2009. At least Marty McFly could convince Doc Brown he was from the future with his insider knowledge of the flux capacitor… Edward had nothing except knowing what brand of scotch the professor preferred.

Was it strange he had certain things still with him? He placed the picture he'd found… _last night? five years from now?_ …beside him on the bedspread and pulled his iPhone out of his back pocket. It was fully charged but there was no service. Of course there wasn't any service… iPhones wouldn't be around for another three years. Edward felt sick; and he had the beginnings of an epic headache. If he hadn't been holding evidence of the future in his hand at that very moment he'd be tempted to think that he'd been on some kind of crazy acid trip and had just now woken up. He pulled up photos he had stored on his phone, ignoring the gnawing emptiness he'd gotten so accustomed to in the last few months. Most of the pictures were of Bella. There was one of the both of them, heads together, silly smiles that he'd taken himself. His life in 2009 had been _real_. Here was the proof.

But what if this was real too? That he traveled back into the past to arrive on this particular day couldn't be a coincidence, even if it was extremely convenient. Because if this was real… if he was truly back in 2004, then he was here to save her. That he might be changing the future permanently, creating one in which they weren't friends or never amounted to anything didn't matter. He could keep her away from Royce King and the woods beside the lake house. He could tell her never to swim in the ocean again. She might think he was crazy and maybe he was. He probably was. But he could save her. Whatever kind of crazy fate-changing chance this was, suddenly he'd never been surer of anything in his life.

He could save her.

* * *

Pete was polishing glasses when Edward stepped into the big room. He did a full 360, noticing everything that was different and the same in the space of ten seconds, ending with his uncle, who was now looking at him as if he had two heads. Edward squinted his eyes, looked him up and down so he could commit the moment to memory. He was stunned by the fact that they actually had a finite number of conversations left. What could he say that actually meant something? Something profound, something to-

"What are you doing back here?" Peter's face broke into a smile.

And suddenly Edward remembered the summer he'd turned fourteen.

* * *

"_What are you doing back here?" Peter's face leaned down around the corner of the bar, watching Edward hide on the floor behind the counter._

"_SHHH!" Edward's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "I'm hiding from…" he paused, convinced he'd heard footsteps, "Jessica. Stanley." He whispered._

"_Mmhmm." Peter nodded once and straightened, grabbing a highball to polish. His eyebrows rose when fourteen year-old Jessica skidded into the barroom not ten seconds later._

_She gasped then composed herself, dimpling. "Oh, hi Uncle Pete." All of Edward's friends called him Uncle Pete. "Um, Mikey's looking for Edward and I thought I saw him run thisaway. You seen him by chance?" She batted her eyelashes, her clear sweet voice a perfect match for her sunstreaked hair tied up sweetly with a ribbon. Her blue eyes were on a mission, shifting all around the room._

_Little Jessica Stanley was pretty as a picture but as mean as a snake. "Jess, honey, I ain't seen him for at least an hour." Peter nearly laughed as he sensed Edward's sheer relief somewhere around his kneecap._

_Jessica's eyebrows drew together and she clenched her jaw, eyes looking hard at the mirror behind the counter. "You sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I saw him."_

"_I might be old but I still got my eyes, honey," he said, not unkindly._

_She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Well. Okay then. If you see him tell him I need to talk to him as soon as humanly possible. It's really, really, completely important."_

"_Right-o, Miss Stanley. Now skedaddle, y'hear? I think I hear your mama," he said, wiggling his fingers, shooing her out. He let out a huge sigh as her haughty ponytail flounced out the door._

_Peter crouched down beside Edward a moment later. "You owe me one, kid."_

"_Uncle Pete? I'll owe you for the rest of my LIFE. You don't know what she was trying to do to me." _

"_I might have an idea." Peter stretched his legs out with a groan, knees popping, as he sat down with Edward on the floor. "Here's the thing, Loverboy. You can't let women like Jessica Stanley run over you. I can already tell you that you ain't somebody who's gonna like that."_

"_No kidding," Edward leaned forward and said in a half-whisper, "She wants to kiss all the time. And last night, I thought she was gonna maim me for real! She just went nuts when she… you know…." Edward gave him a knowing look with a man-to-man type shrug, as if that said it all._

"_Huh." Peter narrowed his eyes. "No… I don't know. Why don't you enlighten me."_

_Edward shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it started out alright, but then she… I don't know… she… uh, she…"_

"_Edward, if you can't say it you shouldn't be using it."_

"_Yeah, okay. Fine. I thought she was gonna rip my dick off. With her hand. Is that better?" Edward grumbled, the tips of his ears warm. "Look. I don't wanna have the sex talk again, alright?"_

_Peter grinned with serious eyes. "And I don't wanna give it. Don't make me have to."_

"_I like girls with dark hair, anyway."_

"_Do you now?"_

_Edward nodded. "Aunt Lottie… she had dark hair didn't she? You like girls with dark hair too."_

"_Your aunt Charlotte was the most beautiful woman in the world; as pretty as your mama." Peter leaned back against the cabinet._

_Edward snorted then outright guffawed. "You are the biggest sap, Uncle Pete."_

"_You just wait grasshopper. You think you know. One day you'll meet a girl with dark hair who'll turn you inside out. It might be here, it might be someplace else. But it'll be when you least expect it. And when you look at her, I mean really look at her, you'll forget your name, what you might have been sayin' or thinkin'; what I'm telling you son, is that you're gonna lose your mind over a girl. And I hope I'm here to see it."_

"_That sounds pretty ridiculous to me. How would I ever forget my own name?" He scoffed, flipping through a cocktail recipe book. "I mean, yeah, I get that's it's true looove and all that shit—"_

"_Watch your mouth, kid."_

"—_but it can't possibly be worth it. I know it's not worth it. Look how sad Dad still is… and he's even got Esme. And you're alone. That just… sucks." He shook his head uselessly. "I'm not ever gonna be like that."_

"_It'll just happen, kid," Peter said gently. "She'll be your life, the same way your Aunt Lottie was mine. You gotta lot of love to give, Edward, don't ever doubt that. You might mess around some but when you find her, you'll fall hard."_

"_Uncle Pete…" Edward rolled his eyes and grimaced, face red._

_Peter laughed. "If I'm still around when you find her, you let me know, alright? You just let me know."_

"_How will I know?"_

"_You'll know."_

* * *

Edward settled in at a high table across from his uncle. He couldn't shake the peculiar feeling in his gut… he was in a memory but yet he wasn't, because the Edward _now_ was different than the Edward _then._ Still, here, this moment… was so natural. As easy as breathing.

"You told me one time to let you know when I found her," he said in a low voice.

Peter looked up.

"Well… I did, Uncle Pete. I found her. And you were right… about everything."

Peter turned his cap around so that the bill was in the back, as if to ensure he didn't miss anything. "I thought you seemed different this morning. Couldn't put my finger on it though." He wiped a glass rim slowly. "So. You gonna tell me?"

"Um, yeah." Edward looked down at his feet and cleared his throat, then raised his head to continue. "Just trying think of how to start, I guess. It's a little… unusual."

"She got dark hair?"

"She does," he said, a catch in his voice. "She's fucking beautiful."

"Watch that mouth, kid," Pete grinned and Edward started laughing. And then he was crying.

"Ah, shit," he laughed again as he wiped his face.

* * *

In the end, Edward gave Peter a hybrid version of the truth, minus the time travel. The ragged hole in his chest that'd been there ever since Bella had died hadn't gone away completely, it'd only been subdued. But now there was something else there, something he hadn't felt in months.

Hope.

He helped Peter with some routine cleaning and then escaped upstairs. He'd looked in the mirror a full fifteen minutes, startled at the difference five years could make. The older version of himself was more appealing, surprisingly. Why in the hell had he ever worn his hair this long? If he ran his hand through the top it stuck straight up. No chance for a haircut now though because Emmett would be here soon.

The back porch, with the sunset bathing the sand and sea grass in pink and orange, was the same. He forced himself to look over at Bella's house. It was a rental house, one of the small ones since it only had one bedroom. Families never rented it; the tenants were couples, mostly. Over the years things had been added on, like the breezeway and the expansion of the back deck. He missed the free-for-all riot of color that had been her garden… _would be_ her garden, he corrected himself. He was going to have to make sure he didn't do something weird, like talk to Em about the National Championship he was going to win for Florida in 2006.

He walked around the side of the house and sat down right in the driveway, laying his head on his knees. What if he was stuck here in this time for good? That wouldn't be so bad, really. He was more afraid of waking up back in 2009, to a world where Bella no longer existed, to that empty gnawing hole in his gut that would never go away. He was most likely crazy, anyway. He didn't have a DeLorean or phone booth to travel around in time… in fact, he couldn't recall that he'd done anything except wish he could see her again. If time travel worked like that, then people would have been popping back and forth for ages. Wouldn't they?

Still, being here felt real, he told himself again, even if the déjà vu every five minutes made him want to put his head through a wall. He went over the math one more time. Bella was seventeen in 2004… would be eighteen in September, only a few months away. Edward made a face. Seventeen seemed so young. Right now, the Edward of 2004 was a few days shy of 21… that wasn't such a big jump for someone who was seventeen. But he didn't feel 21. He felt 27. He groaned and lay back flat on the concrete, warm from the sun that was almost gone. Compared to a high school senior like Bella, 27 was an old man.

"Hey! You been drinking already?" Emmett called from the curb. "Get your sorry ass in the car."

Edward got to his feet and brushed himself off, shoving his iPhone deep in the front pocket of his jeans. He waved half-heartedly in greeting as he jogged around to his side of the car.

"Keep your panties on, McCarty," he grinned as he slid into Em's giant SUV. It was good to see him. He'd totally forgotten about Emmett's specialty license plate on the back of his truck. It was a school issued plate, so it had the Florida Gator logo on the left, and then the letters _FUDWGS_. The first time Edward had seen it he'd burst out laughing, and asked Emmett what the hell Fud Wigs meant. Emmett's mouth had dropped open and he'd rushed to look at his own license plate, like he hadn't been the one to order it and then bolt it in.

"It does not say _Fud Wigs_, asshole. You didn't read it right. It's supposed to say, F-U-DWGS, as in _Fuck You Dawgs_. Because Georgia's one of our big rivals. Get it? That's good, huh?" he'd nodded, hands primly on his hips. "It's fucking hysterical is what it is."

"It's fucking hysterical," Edward had agreed, still laughing.

Now as Edward sat in the passenger seat, he felt a rush of affection for his friend, even though he'd turned up the local rap station so loud the grill of the truck rattled. Edward reached over and spun the dial down, laughing as Em shrugged and grinned. Emmett had to be the most easy-going guy on the planet.

"So, I haven't seen you in about a week, E. What up? How's Uncle Pete?" Emmett drove one handed with his arm hanging out the window. Edward couldn't believe he'd forgotten how big Emmett was; his arms were huge. If he had to have a showdown with Royce King and those fuckers who'd hurt Bella and her sister he was damn well making sure Emmett was right there beside him.

"Pete's good," Edward nodded, searching for something else to say. His head was so full of tonight that he was finding it hard to handle small talk. Maybe he shouldn't have turned down the radio. His phone rang in his back jeans pocket. He was confused for a moment, then reached back to pull it out. It was the 2004 phone. Of course. He needed to snap out of this fog he was in.

"Who's calling you?" Emmett glanced over at him, puzzled; when instead of answering, Edward just stared wide-eyed at the name on the call screen, letting it ring until it stopped. "You trying to avoid somebody?"

"I couldn't remember how to send the call to voicemail," Edward said, scrolling through his past calls. "God, this is fucked up," he said, almost to himself. "I don't know who half these numbers are."

Emmett frowned slightly. "Hey, tell me about that chick you were going on and on about… Tonya? Or something… you said you'd just met her."

"Tanya," Edward said, a note of dread creeping into his voice. "Yeah, that was her call I didn't answer." He'd have to nip that in the bud right the fuck now. There was no way he was putting his… second self, or whatever the hell he was now, through that again. "She's a raging psycho. I'm not touching her with a ten foot pole."

"Seriously? Already? I thought you'd only met her one time."

"It was enough. Trust me," he said, looking out the window. He forced his leg to stop bouncing up and down. Fuck, he was so nervous he felt like he might be sick. How many people got second chances in life? Especially this kind of a second chance… he was sure that if he blew this, he'd never get another shot.

Emmett wheeled into Mike's driveway and idled a moment before moving to turn off the engine.

"Man. The last thing I want is to get locked in a conversation with Dr. Newton," Em grumbled, his hand hovering over the ignition. "But then Mike's mom might have those brownie things." He looked at Edward, distressed. "I don't know what to do."

Edward stared at Emmett. Was he this ridiculous when he was 21?

"What?" Emmett said, rather indignantly.

"Nothing, Em. Just honk the horn. I'll buy you a fucking brownie at the gas station."

Emmett stared at him a moment before he burst out laughing. "Aw, you don't have to do that man." He punched him lightly on the arm. "I've got some Cheetos in the glove box anyway."

* * *

He'd have lost serious money betting on whether Mike and Jess would have made it to the church to get married. Edward sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"So I told her to get the fuck out of my car," Mike yelled from the back seat, because Emmett had the windows rolled down. "She just doesn't know what she wants."

"Man, you don't know what you've got, brother." Em looked at Mike through the rear view mirror. "You oughta apologize or she'll be a bitch all night, you know?"

Mike settled back in the seat and crossed his arms. "She doesn't appreciate shit," he grumbled. "She's too hung up on Cullen even though he's only here three months out of the year."

Edward turned around in his seat. "Look asshole, everyone knows Jess is yours except you. So stop being a pussy and tell her you love her, or give her a fucking ring or… something. You're going to be a doctor, she's going to be a teacher and you guys are going to get married and have kids and shit. So just… shut up, okay?"

"Oh that's funny, E, real funny, suddenly you have an opinion. Whatever," Mike glared out the window, but didn't say anything else for ten minutes. Then, "Dude," he said, nudging the back of Em's seat with his knee, "where the fuck are we going?"

They'd been following Leah Clearwater for almost an hour. To Edward, the thick green trees lining the interstate seemed ominous and secretive, especially with the sun gone and the moon glowing orange, sitting low in the sky. He told himself over and over that everything was happening just as it had before, that nothing was going to happen to Bella until he was able to get there. The photograph of her at the party crinkled in his pocket as he shifted in the seat. He couldn't believe he was going to see Bella tonight. Tonight. It'd been more than three months since he'd held her warm in his arms, heard her laugh, felt the soft slippery weight of her ponytail, kissed her… God, he missed her. He missed her so fucking much.

What were the rules of this time travel …thing he was doing? Maybe he was here simply to save Bella and her sister from Royce and his band of assholes. Maybe he would "poof" back to where he belonged whenever he set things right. But what would be the consequences of changing the events of that night? That night… _tonight_.

If Bella were never attacked, her life would be totally different wouldn't it? Would she still come to Summerside? She'd probably finish school and move to New York to be some famous artist for all he knew. If she never came to Summerside, then he'd never meet her… what if he went back to 2009 and had no memory of her at all? He could have dealt with Bella living in New York in 2009 because he'd track her down. He'd find her, wherever she was and he wouldn't give up until she was as much in love with him as he was with her. But if he didn't even remember her… if he had to give her up that way, memories and everything… oh God. Was that what it would take? Would it be that kind of sacrifice to save her?

"Edward. Man, you okay? You look like you're about to pass out." Em put the truck in park and looked him over, smiling a little. "You _were_ drinking before I picked you up, weren't you?"

"No, I…" Edward ran his hands through his hair weakly. "I don't know. I feel funny, I guess."

"Don't puke in the truck," Em said shortly as he rolled up the windows. He climbed out and waved to Leah.

* * *

It was obvious the party was in full swing, even from down the street where they'd parked. Good thing there weren't any neighbors close. The house was huge, three stories, with thick woods on either side. As they walked down the road to the driveway, Edward found himself scanning the people standing and talking in little groups in the front yard. Every little detail from the photo in his pocket was burned into his brain by now... how her hair was fixed, the color and cut of the shirt she was wearing, a touch of something that made her lips just a bit darker. His heart pounded as he walked up the sidewalk.

A welcome cold blast of air hit them as they came through the front door. The place was packed. Edward sighed. She probably wasn't even here yet. And he needed to act naturally anyway, because whatever he'd done before brought him close enough to her so that she was in range of his camera. If he freaked out and went on a hunt around the house that moment might not happen and… fucking hell, his head hurt, thinking about all the possibilities.

So he found the keg, poured a cup of beer, and tried to get into the spirit of the party.

* * *

**You guys have completely blown me away. If you're reading this, it's due to the big hearts of so many wonderful ladies, so talented in their own rights. If it weren't for vysed, rescuing Firefly in Summer from the depths of LiveJournal, I'd still be Flying Under the Radar. ;) She guest recc'd me on The Fictionators (amazing!) and Kassiah and caren had such nice things to say.**

**Magnolia822 rec'd Firefly on her latest chapter of Strange Brew- and y'all came in droves because you trusted her. Thank you. If you aren't already, go read her stories. They're wonderful, just like she is.**

**les16 rec'd Firefly on her latest chapter of The Greatest Gift- and tons of people rushed over. She's a blast- and the best cheerleader ever. Go check out her fic blogs. Awesome stuff.**

**And KJ mused about me and Firefly and thinks I'm beautiful. I think she's beautiful too. And Other. :) I'm honored, bb.**

**Oh! And Firefly was a question on TwiFicTrivia! A wordle... don't know what that is? I'll put it on my bio. That was fun.**

**And to all the people who have taken the time to review- even to go back and review every chapter... just- thank you. So much. This was more than I ever expected. Truly. I love your questions and speculations and hearing whatever you want to say. **

**All my love to Faireyfan and susayq- they are so generous with their time and talents and all they get in return are my emails. Well, and chapters a few days in advance. ;)**

**If I've missed anyone please know that I didn't mean to. If you see Firefly recc'd somewhere please drop me a line- I have complementary bottles of bourbon I send out. The ones too good to waste in eggnog.**

**Love to my Twitter girls- yes, YOU. And to xtothey, just cause I luff her.**

**And that's the end. Could I be any more pretentious? Probably not.**

**Next update: April 29th. And I'll even give you a hint... He sees her. And she sees him. She thinks he's beautiful, and he already knows that she is.**


	17. Hi, I'm Edward And you're Bella

**Hi! A/N at the bottom**

**Thank you to Faireyfan... her enthusiasm get _me_ excited! And she's brave enough to ask all the hard questions. :) **

**My beta susayq is one of my Bama girls- and is without power due to the storms yesterday. I'll keep my fingers crossed that she doesn't gasp at all my missing commas when she finally reads this.**

* * *

Bella liked parties as much as the next person. She just wasn't any… good at them. She never had any gossip to share about boys or sex, and other topics of conversation usually centered around the latest reality show or celebrity news. She knew enough to take part and get a word in, here or there, at least enough to get by. Enough to save herself from appearing to be the complete moron her sister thought she was. But Bella was really not that good of an actress, to tell the truth. Boredom made her mind wander and it showed. As she stood in a group of chatty girls her eyes moved around the room, picking up on the body language of strangers, the expressions on their faces when the person they were talking to looked away, or maybe whether or not a couple was fighting… jealousy, adoration, desire… it was all here in this room if you looked hard enough. That was way more interesting than discussing the E! channel.

Her sister had been gone for a while though, and Bella wondered where she'd disappeared. She didn't really know anyone here except Rosie's friend Leah. The girls she was standing with were friends of Rosie's as well, which was probably why they were being so nice. Well, that wasn't exactly true, one of the girls was an art major at FSU and they'd had a really awesome conversation about that. The girl had been way impressed when Bella had told her about her full scholarship to the art college in Savannah. But she had a boyfriend and had given Bella an apologetic smile when he appeared out of nowhere to whisk her away, to wherever boyfriends and girlfriends go. She wouldn't know. Maybe she'd find a cool guy up in Savannah… someone in photography… or maybe a writer. Sensitive, cute and funny. Maybe he'd have a black leather jacket and ride a motorcycle like James Dean…

"Oh my god, that guy is staring over here at us," Elizabeth whispered. She was one of the sorority sisters but had barely gotten in, according to Rosie. Elizabeth made up for that by trying very hard to be on the cusp of everything. Too hard, Bella thought, as she was more than a bit annoying. What was the point of a sorority anyway? Bella didn't want _one_ sister, much less seventy. "Don't look! Don't look! He'll see you!" Elizabeth said breathlessly, and fanned herself.

"Okay, not looking," Lucie bit her lip, clutching her drink close to her chest. "At least tell me what he's wearing so I can turn around in a minute."

"Umm, he's wearing a white t-shirt, tucked in… there's writing but I can't tell… and oh my god at his jeans!" Elizabeth sighed mournfully, "he's so intense, he looks like he's ready to eat somebody alive. And so hot… he's-"

"Well, who's he looking at? What about hair?

"Hold on! I'm trying to look but _not_ look, okay? His hair is sort of brown… but not…"

"You two are the biggest idiots!" One of the girls looked up from texting on her cell phone. Bella didn't know her name. "Just wave to him or something and stop gawking. Maybe he'll come over and talk to you. Geez." She already had a boyfriend so she could care less about some hot creeper at the other end of the room.

"Who's he looking at?" Lucie hissed. "I'm turning around. I can't stand it."

They both stared at the stranger in the doorway. Elizabeth frowned. "I think he's looking at…"

"Rosie's little sister," Lucie finished as she turned her head toward Bella.

"Her name is Bella," Texting Girl said, reading her phone at the same time.

"Huh?" Bella looked up at the three girls. She'd been watching the bubbles race on the inside of her cup of warm beer. It was gross. She always took way too long to drink it.

"I _know_ her name, thanks," Lucie said. She huffed and turned back to Bella. "Didn't you hear? There's a cute guy looking at you… over there, in the doorway of the kitchen."

Bella almost laughed. _Right_. But she couldn't help turning immediately to look in that direction to see if it was true. Then she caught her breath… because there, leaning up against the corner of the doorway was the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen in her life. She felt the urge to look behind her, surely he was eyeing someone else… but wow, how pathetic would _that_ be? So she dropped her eyes down to her beer instead, feeling more than a little silly.

When she looked up again he was talking to someone else, and she blew out a small breath of relief. Geez, he really was… he was not only cute, he was handsome. And older. And waaay out of her league. She laughed to herself. It looked like this guy was the star player and she hadn't even tried out for the team.

"Well?"

Bella's head snapped up. Lucie was looking at her in a way that was half predatory, half Ashton Kutcher Punk'd. Bella raised her eyebrow coolly. She wasn't Rose's little sister for nothing. "What," she said flatly.

"What do you mean, _what_." Lucie grinned. "Walk over there and get another cup of beer. The keg's in the kitchen. You'll have to walk right by him."

"That's way too obvious and um, anyway, there's another boy I'm meeting here, so…" Bella smiled and shrugged but didn't move an inch. There was no way in hell she was walking over there. She didn't chase boys.

So she turned the opposite way and headed for the bathroom.

* * *

There must have been a part of him that hadn't really believed she'd be here. But after all he'd already done today… riding in the car with Emmett, who was in prison, seeing, talking with Uncle Pete, who was _dead_… how could he not have believed? But there she was. Edward's whole body hummed; she was _here_, and everything inside him was pulling him toward her, like magnets, or a string that connected his heart to hers. A string that might be frayed to hell and back, but had never broken.

Edward stepped behind the corner of the doorway, taking her in. Her long dark hair was a little shorter then what he was used to, but the style was the same, sweeping over an eye, tumbling down her back. As he watched her look around the room she tucked a little bit of it behind her ear. She'd notice him soon because he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her. What would he do when she saw him?

He was struck by how young she looked. She was still willowy thin, still had that habit of nibbling her lower lip when she was deep in thought, still carried an elastic band around on her wrist in case she ever wanted to pull her hair up. But he could see now that there were a few differences. She had a baby roundness to her face that wasn't there when he knew her before. She looked shy but unguarded, innocent, open. And now she had a quick smile, even if it was only in response to something in her own head. This girl was Bella, _his_ Bella… but then again she wasn't.

Not for the first time, or the last, he wondered how long he would have here. Here, in 2004, with her. The question ebbed and flowed in his mind, maddening in all its uncertainty. Before any of this had happened, he'd have said that repeating a random day in his life would have been predictable and boring. Why wouldn't it be, if you already knew what was going to happen? But things had been different from the moment he'd woken up to Pete's giant footsteps up the stairs… he'd felt the difference. Because _he_ was different. He was _aware_.

Before, when he'd come into this house the first time, he'd immediately found the keg so he could drink himself stupid. He'd mooned over Tanya on the phone and took crazy pictures with Em and a couple of his friends from the team. He'd flirted with Jessica in a hallway somewhere and laughed when it pissed off Mike.

But he'd done none of those things this time around. And things were the same… but not. Bella Swan was here, just like she'd been before, but this time he knew who she was. So he'd been holding the same tired cup of beer for the last hour, waiting for the chance to really change things. To change lives. If he had a choice, he wanted to stay here in 2004. Because there was no way he could be separated from Bella again. It would be unbearable.

Suddenly she looked up, right at him, right in his eyes, and he drew in a quick breath at the recognition in her gaze. She knew him! Didn't she?

_Bella! It's me… it's Me._

She colored a little, dropping her eyes easily, like he was just another guy. So easy for her, and he'd hardly blinked in ten minutes. Abruptly he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. But really, what'd he expect?

"E, come check out this chick I've been talking to. She's here with a ton of her friends." Emmett stopped in the doorway on his way to the keg. "She goes to State but said she thought she might transfer."

Edward held on to the frame of the doorway to keep himself upright. He needed to be cool. Of course she wouldn't know him. She'd never met him before. He swallowed and rubbed the hammering in his chest.

"Where? Florida?" Edward glanced at Em, then went back to watching Bella.

Some things definitely hadn't changed. Bella'd blushed when he'd spooked her by staring. He had this incredible urge to scoop her up and throw her over his shoulder and get as far away from this place as he could.

He flashed back to sunshine and sand under his feet, a chill still in the air…

"_I just wanted to say hello since we're neighbors and everything. I'm Bella. And you're Edward."_

Emmett leaned up against the doorway next to him "Yeah," he sighed. "I'm a pussy for saying this, but… I really like her."

Edward turned to face him fully. He didn't remember this conversation with Emmett at all… in fact, he was almost positive this hadn't happened the first time around. "And you've known her… what. Five minutes?"

"Well, fuck, everybody starts somewhere, don't they? I can be romantic if I want to. I know how to treat a woman right."

"Right." Edward grinned.

"She's different man, I'm telling you," Emmett broke off awkwardly, with a wry smile and a shrug. "What can I say?"

"What's her name, then? 'Cause if you actually asked her name and didn't just escort her into the backseat of your car then there might be something to this."

"Rosalie. Her name's Rosalie."

"What?" Edward reeled back, eyes wide. His head whipped back to the group of girls he'd been watching. They were there, but Bella was gone.

* * *

After she washed and dried her hands and checked her hair in the bathroom mirror, Bella stood inspecting her nails, hesitating to open the door that would lead her back to the party. This night didn't feel right to her but she couldn't pinpoint why. Silly insecurities. She took a deep breath and shoved the door wide. Everybody had doubts… worries. Even the people who looked like they had it all together. They could just hide it better than anyone else.

At the last minute she took a detour to the right, instead of going back downstairs. Her shoes sank down into the plush carpet, and she had a strange yearning to slip them off and walk barefoot. This was a very nice house. She didn't know who it belonged to, but they sure had plenty of money. Maybe Phil and her mom would buy a house like this, and then she could visit and paint landscapes. The lake wasn't the beach or anything, but it was still beautiful.

"What are you doing up here?" Leah poked her head through the bedroom door where Bella was peering out the window. She laughed when Bella threw her hand up to calm her heart. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you, sweetie."

"No, I mean, well you did, but I shouldn't be sneaking around up here, I don't think." She rubbed her arms and looked out the window again. "But I was liking the quiet."

"I get you, girl. And it's um… getting rowdy down there, to say the least." Leah trailed off and bit her lip.

"What?"

"Royce is here."

"Crap. What- _how?_ Have you seen my sister?"

"Yeah, she's downstairs talking to this guy I know from my hometown. He's totally hot… plays football for Florida. And he has the cutest dimples! You should go see."

"Mmhmm." Bella warmed then rubbed her cheek, hating her blush, as she thought of that guy standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She hoped that he wasn't the guy Rosie was talking to. It made sense though. It was a good bet that if he'd been looking at her, it was because he wanted to ask where her sister was. A wave of melancholy crept up; her only comfort; and she blew out a breath, watching it bloom and disappear on the glass of the window. Stupid beautiful boys. "I'll go find her in a minute," she turned to Leah with a tight smile. "It's getting late anyway. Hopefully she'll have sense enough to stay away from him."

Leah didn't have to ask who Bella meant by _him._

"'Kay, baby. I'll catch you later. You staying up here?" Leah scowled at her phone. "I swear, Sam is such an infant. He's tutoring this freshman in calculus and she calls him, like, ALL the time. He's always complaining, 'Emily won't leave me alone, blah blah blah.' I told him he needs to tell her to stop but you know him. He's just too nice."

Leah was still talking to herself as she walked out and Bella settled back in the window seat, leaning her forehead against the glass. It had rained the whole afternoon. With all the humidity, the puddles on the roof outside the window were still there, fat and deep… the heavy edges of them trembling, waiting for just one more raindrop to send the whole thing over the edge. But they were beautiful, really. The entire house was reflected in the water, fractured and brighter, almost like a truer interpretation of the world. Maybe the world as it was supposed to be. Without all the ugly stuff. She smiled a little. Bella Swan, Wicked Witch of the South. Gazing into her very own crystal ball.

* * *

Edward didn't know where Bella had gone but he figured that if her sister was safe, then she was okay too, for now. He shifted on his feet and tried to pay attention to the conversation, all the while glancing furtively around the room every few seconds.

Emmett definitely knew how to find pretty girls. Rosalie was gorgeous. She laughed again, a low, throaty sound, designed to make men think of sex. Edward nodded politely when she smiled and laid her hand on his arm.

"How in the world did you find yourself down here when you go to school way up there in Dartmouth?" she asked, her mouth lush and seductive, cutting her eyes to Emmett at the last minute. Edward smiled. If she was trying to make Em jealous it wouldn't work. Emmett was a lot of things, good and bad, but he wasn't jealous. He just wasn't wired that way.

"I spend my summers at my uncle's place. In Summerside, I don't know, about an hour from here? On the coast."

"Oh," she murmured, "I don't think I've ever heard of Summerside. But I love the beach. I'm sure it's beautiful." Rosalie was looking at Emmett again, a little perturbed, but there was wonder there as well. Emmett McCarty was not reacting like a normal boy.

"Yeah, if you blink you'll miss it, that's for sure," Emmett grinned. "I'll take you sometime. You'll love Edward's uncle. He's a fucking trip." He towered over her with his hands stuffed in his pockets, unabashedly running his eyes all over her face; her gold hair pinned up on the side. He was smitten in the worst way.

Rosalie blushed and Emmett grinned wider. "E, you've been nursing that same damn cup of beer all night, dude." He hadn't taken his eyes off Rosalie. "What gives? I'm fine to drive if that's what you're worried about."

Edward grimaced, scanning the room again for Bella. That was something else he needed to address, but he didn't know how without sounding like a complete jackass. In 2004, Em had never been much of a drinker. Staying in perfect shape for football had always been his main concern. If Edward went on a drunk driving rant now it just wouldn't fly.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just not in the mood I guess."

"Who are you looking for?" Rosalie asked Edward, only giving him a cursory glance this time before training her eyes back on Emmett. She'd obviously decided that he was the guy she wanted. "You keep looking at the door like you're waiting for someone to walk in."

Edward hesitated. "I might be looking for somebody," he said softly. He ran his hands through his hair nervously and thought maybe it was time to take a chance. "Um, a girl with long brown hair in a blue shirt," he looked intently at Rosalie, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know. Does she go to FSU?"

"No," Edward said, his chin lifting a fraction.

"You don't know her name?"

He nodded and took a sip of warm beer. "Her name," he blinked his eyes a little too long. Finally he sighed, and pinned her with his gaze. "Yeah. Her name is Bella."

Rosalie's shoulders tightened. "Hmm. What year are you?"

"Junior."

"So you're what… twenty one? You seem older for some reason."

Edward rubbed his temple with the heel of his hand. "Almost twenty one. In a few days actually." He laughed, "What's with the third degree?" even though he knew very well what she was doing.

She gave him a hard glance. "No reason." Her next words were dismissive. "I don't know anyone like that. But if you're looking for a hook-up or something, I have a couple of friends that might be interested."

His brows lifted, and he looked sourly amused. "Not looking for a hook-up. Thanks anyway."

"Yeah, don't listen to him. Get your friends over here, baby. Edward here can be a shy motherfucker. He needs help, know what I'm saying?" Emmett boomed, punching him in the shoulder.

Edward glared and moved out of range, making Emmett chuckle. "That shit hurt, asshole." As he was rubbing his arm he noticed a guy in the corner of the room staring them down. He glanced at Emmett and shrugged his shoulder, making sure it still worked the right way, unconsciously shifting into an aggressive posture.

Emmett caught the direction of Edward's gaze and frowned.

Pale grey eyes stared back with the cold watchfulness of a hawk, steady and calculating while his body vibrated with a sort of caged restlessness. The look of him was all sharp lines and angles, his hair brushed back severely, revealing a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"That guy's high as shit. Looks like a mean bastard, too." Emmett snorted and turned back to a pale Rosalie, her jaw clenched so tight, she had to be in pain. "Aw, now don't be scared baby, I won't let nothing hurt you. You believe me, right?"

* * *

Bella walked down the stairs unhurried, already decided to deliberately wander into the kitchen to get another cup of beer. If that boy, the pretty one, was still there and he looked at her again, she'd smile and say hi. She'd be able to tell right away what he wanted as soon as he opened his mouth anyway. They were all the same. Boys. It didn't matter if she and Rosie were still in high school, or at a party, or doing the weekly grocery shopping. It didn't matter if a guy thought they were just friends or knew they were sisters. If some guy wanted a shot at Rosie, they'd come straight to Bella, all apologetic and smiley, hemming and hawing as they worked up the courage to ask for an introduction, or a phone number, or whatever. The nicest ones talked her up first so it didn't look like they were using her even though they both knew that's what they were doing. That's just the way it was. And that was fine… really best for tonight because if Rosie were occupied with some guy, then maybe she wouldn't worry with Royce. Bella really didn't want to deal with Royce. He scared the ever-living crap out of her.

She was so focused on watching her feet tap down the hardwood stairs that she nearly bumped into someone standing at the bottom. A flash of white filled her vision and then a strong hand moved to hold her steady at the waist.

"Ooh, sorry, I…" she squeaked, eyes wide when she saw who held her. It was _him_, the boy… the beautiful boy from the kitchen doorway. His hands slid up to her shoulders, and he held her slightly away so that she was looking up into his face. She felt slightly dizzy.

"Hey," he began then stopped, staring at her a little strangely. Almost as if he knew who she was but couldn't remember her name. And he was still holding onto her.

"Thanks," she murmured, taking a small step back. He released her immediately. "I wasn't looking where I was going." Was this guy weird or something? He was breathing hard and he looked… nervous? That couldn't be right. Wow, he must really like Rosie, if he was even acting nervous with her little sister.

"No, it's totally my fault. I was standing right in your way," he smiled and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. "But I'm glad I bumped into you. I've been wanting to… um… say hi, I guess. Sort of all night."

She softened. What she wouldn't give to love a boy like this, and have him love her back. Her sister was so lucky.

"My name's Edward." He ran a hand through his hair, and it stuck up wildly. "And you're Bella."

"You know my name?" she couldn't help but giggle and his eyebrows drew together in a crease. As he noticed the direction of her amused gaze, he grinned and quickly patted his hair down, trying for a slightly more manageable mass of untidiness. Now _he_ was blushing… the tips of his ears were red.

Edward was… different. That was for sure.

"Yeah, I know your name." He looked at her… really looked, and her heart clenched painfully. No one had looked at her like that in forever… like they saw inside to who she really was. Not since she was about eight years old.

"Did you want to meet my sister?" Bella blurted, surprised at how much it hurt to give him away. Suddenly she wanted to keep this boy, even though she hadn't the slightest idea of what to do with him.

"I've already met your sister. Rosalie… right? She's over there, talking to my friend, Emmett." He cocked his head at her. "I wanted to talk to you."

"You don't want my sister?" she said, a little breathless.

He shook his head slowly, a lopsided smile stealing across his face. "No."

"You wanted to talk… to me?" she asked, some part of her heart beginning to believe in spite of itself.

Now he was full-on grin. "Bella," he shook his head, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the _only_ person at this godforsaken party that I want to talk to, believe me."

Bella laughed delightedly then tamped it down. _Be cool, girl._

"Then I accept," she said, smiling brilliantly.

Edward. She already liked him. A lot.

* * *

**A/N**

**Firefly in Summer has a Twilighted thread! I think it's languishing at the moment but I'll check in from time to time, if you have any burning questions. Link on my author's page.**

**Thank you to whoever nominated Firefly for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand! Voting is open for one more day, I believe. The link is on my author's page.**

**And thank you to Nicole over on The Lemonade Stand FB page. Someone said you always had great recs… I'm so excited to be included!**

**Drotuno rec'd Firefly in her fic, Blood and Glory. If you're not already reading, go check her out. I'm so glad I've gotten to know her in the past few weeks. Thank you, bb.**

**Thank you to all my chat room girls and their theories that keep my mind spinning when I try to sleep at night. And to my twitter girls and the friends that buzz and chatter when a new chapter posts- you make life fun… xoxo**

**If I missed anyone it was unintentional. Please let me know so I can say thank you.**

**You may have heard about the catastrophic damage from tornadoes that swept my home state of Alabama yesterday. Homes were demolished only a mile from my own house and so much of the landscape has changed… not to mention lives lost. My heart breaks for everyone affected across the state, but especially for my college town, Tuscaloosa, my home for five years and so dear to me. I cried and cried when I saw the footage and the pictures. Residents and students alike were killed, and so many others are injured with no home to return to.**

**I was thankful to touch base with all my Bama girls on Twitter last night, to know that they and their families were alright. Hardly anyone has power- even me! I'm posting this from a Barnes and Noble.**

**I've committed to help my little community as much as I can so I wanted to let you know not to expect a new chapter of Firefly next Friday. I'm so sorry… this story is mostly written, but every week I find something to rewrite or add to the next chapter. And it's hard to do that without power! I'll be busy cleaning up outside, and teaching next week in the place of a friend that lost her house—but I'll have my iPhone in my back pocket. I can't tell you what your sweet reviews mean to me. I read and save them all. Thank you for being so wonderful.**

**I'm hoping to post chapter 18 in the general vicinity of May 10-11. I should be able to put teasers up at ADF and Fictionators for Monday though. **

**And seriously, if you've read this far? Here's something from ch.18 right now...**

**from Bella:**

**"I'd never think you were crazy. I know you don't want to talk about her, the one who left and broke your heart. But she's the crazy one, for letting you go."  
**

** Xoxo, R**


	18. Miracle

**STOP! **

**Sorry, it's just that there's a sideshot, or a backshot if you will, that you might want to read before you read this chapter. Just back up to my profile and find Firefly Rarities in my stories. I'm not saying you won't get this chapter if you don't read it, but it's kinda like turning on the surround sound, you know? Emmett thanks you. Me too. **

**Hugs and kisses to faireyfan and susayq... who whipped out their red pens in the 11th hour because I was very late this week. I even took over les16's lunch, literally ten minutes ago. Thank you, sweeties.**

**Love you guys- more at the bottom.**

* * *

"So," Rosalie said nonchalantly as she dragged Bella to the bathroom. It hadn't mattered that Bella said she didn't need to go, when Rosalie had things to say, she was going to say them.

"You know him already don't you? Have you… you know, _been_ with him?" Bella locked and leaned up against the bathroom door, folding her arms. "Go ahead and tell me, it's fine, whatever," she said, even thought it wasn't. It _so_ wasn't. "I just want to know."

"No, I don't know Edward," Rosalie sighed. "God, Bella, you really need to at least act like you're out of high school."

"Then why did you drag me in here?"

"He's looking to hook up. Just… don't." Rosalie touched up her lipstick in the bathroom mirror. "You haven't been out with a lot of guys so I know you don't see it."

"I go out with plenty of guys. You don't _know_." Bella mentally braced herself for battle. "You've been away at college so you don't know," she mumbled, a moment later.

"Bella, I'm just trying to help you."

"I don't need your help."

"Obviously," Rosalie said, in the usual irritating, unruffled way that she had. She looked in the mirror again, taking her time to adjust hair that looked perfect anyway, and then turned to face her sister. "You managed to snag the one guy guaranteed to be looking for a one night stand."

Bella deflated slightly. "So? Maybe I-"

"You don't know anything about him."

"Well, you hardly gave me a chance-"

"He goes to Dartmouth, Sissy. Do you know where that is?" Rosalie said sharply with a worried look. "Hours and hours away."

"Well, Emmett-"

"He goes to Florida," she sighed. "Look, Edward's almost a senior this year. Believe me, college seniors don't go trolling for little girls still waiting for their prom pictures to come in the mail unless they have an ulterior motive."

"I didn't even go to prom."

"Now you're being deliberately stupid. You know what I mean."

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the party going on outside the four walls of the little bathroom. Bella twisted her hands together, a wistful expression on her face.

"I can tell he likes me though."

"Of course he likes you. Maybe he has a thing for young, sweet little innocent virgins."

Hot tears flooded Bella's eyes and she swiped them away, her hands balled into fists. "Why do you _do_ that? Why do you ruin everything? It wasn't like I was going to run off and have sex with him after only knowing him an _hour_. I just wanted to _talk_ to him." She resisted the urge to stomp her foot on the floor.

"I think he has a girlfriend anyway." Her sister at least had the good manners to look sorry about relaying that little piece of information.

Bella hand tightened on the doorknob behind her back. She squeezed so hard that the tiny ridges of the lock dug into her skin, sending a sharp flare of pain up her arm.

"I don't care," she said finally, lifting her chin, and it felt good to lie about it somehow, to act as if she meant it. Maybe if she said it enough she _would_ mean it. Maybe that's how these things worked. Mind over matter and all that. "I don't care," she said again.

Rosalie moved to hug her but Bella turned her head. "Sissy, I'm sorry," she sighed.

"It doesn't matter," Bella sniffed, hating the way her emotions were always so exposed. "The good things always happen to you anyway."

"You don't know shit about _good things_, whatever you think that means," Rosalie hissed, managing to look furious and heartbroken all at the same time. "You don't know how _good_ you have it. You'll go to art school and blow them away, you're so freaking talented, and you'll meet someone that loves you for you- for who you are in your heart. You _can't_ mess that up. You just can't throw all that away for some random cute boy at a stupid party. Because some boys… they might look nice on the outside but they're cold hearted bastards on the inside."

"Thanks, _mom_."

"Real mature, Bella."

"Not every guy is Royce King. And I'm not you."

"I know," Rosalie said into her purse, looking for nothing. "But we're not talking about him."

"Oh, aren't we?" Bella smirked. "He's here, I've heard."

"I know. I don't want to talk to him but I probably should." Rosalie gestured for Bella to move away from the door.

Obviously this conversation was over.

"Why won't you ever tell me what's going on with you two?"

A steely-eyed gaze. "Because you don't need to know." Without another word, she opened the door and walked out. It slammed shut behind her.

* * *

"Dude, you know how old she is right?" Emmett said in a low voice after the girls had headed for the bathroom. "She's not even legal, I don't think."

"She's seventeen."

Emmett held his hands up. "Not judging."

"Good, don't. She's a nice girl. I just want to…" Edward shrugged. He took a sip of his beer and wrinkled his nose. "You know, talk. Get to know her." He rubbed the tightness at the back of his neck. "Hey… you hear something buzzing?"

"That's cool, that's cool. Whatever you want man. Depending on how things go, we can head back or crash at Jasper's tonight. He looked over Edward's shoulder.

"Seth! What's up kid? Look at you… tucking your shirt in and everything for a Saturday night. The world is fucking ending, I swear. Get your ass over here." Emmett slapped Seth on the back. "I'm pulling rank on you tonight. Where in the hell are your pansy-assed freshman teammates? Where's the offensive line? Garrett had better show his face soon… I had plans for him tonight and he disappeared."

"Yeah, I don't know where he went. He better not leave me though; he was my ride. He saw somebody else he knew, I think," Seth shrugged with a half-smile. "But I'm good. Awesome party, huh."

"It'd be better if my girl came back. Hey E, how does the flash on this thing work?" Emmett asked as he fumbled with the little digital camera. "I want to get a picture with Rosalie when she comes back from the bathroom. Mine has a button-thing at the top, but I can't figure out…"

Edward's hands clenched as he blinked his eyes furiously, mentally shaking himself. He could hardly hear anything, so loud… something was buzzing. So loud. The room was tilting and spinning, his vision hazed by memories. A girl with a pink shirt asked him if he wanted her to take their picture. Then or now? He opened his mouth to answer her but nothing came out.

Edward blindly held out one hand to Emmett for the camera, rubbing his temple with the other.

"Dude, you alright?"

"Yeah… got a bit of a headache, I think…" Edward shivered. He wasn't all right though. A sudden vague sense of vertigo, a fucked up sort of splintered recall made him feel like a fractured mirror, all the shards blinking, laughing at him in his confusion… will the real Edward Cullen please stand up? These things would happen… or had they already? He remembered puking his guts up, pink shirt… Tanya's voice on the phone, laughing because Em was pissy over some girl, _Rosie_… And Garrett… where in the hell was Garrett… and why was that important?

He felt the cool weight of the camera pressed in his fingers and Em's steady hand on his shoulder.

"Edward, hey… what's wrong with you man?"

_She hadn't come back… why hadn't she come out of the bathroom? They hadn't taken the picture yet… the one where she was in the background with Leah… something was wrong… Was this it? It was time, wasn't it? No, it was past time. Fate was correcting itself, adjusting, compensating for the time-traveling Edward anomaly… _

He felt inside his pocket for the picture, the one he'd discovered on his old bedroom floor… _before_…

_Uncle Pete, lasagna, sand, sun, soup, sketches, Christmas lights… secrets on a moonlit porch balcony… kissing her. Oh god, finally kissing her… and the red pulse bouncing off the windows of his bar… pain and grief… emptiness…_

And the picture was missing.

Gone.

Like it had never even existed.

_Firefly_

A starburst of pain and memory shattered under the heart-thudding reality of the present. There was blood in his mouth; he'd bitten his tongue. His eyes snapped open wide, wild and he grabbed Emmett's arm, frantic.

"Come with me! _Come with me NOW!"_

* * *

Bella was pretty sure that her sister talking to Royce King was a bad idea… maybe the worst. She could be wrong, but she'd thought they had broken up. She waited a few minutes before slipping out of the bathroom, a little queasy and upset. She wanted to go home.

Edward was talking to Emmett just a few feet away, waiting on her to come back but she pressed herself back against the wall instead, angling herself so that several clumps of people were between them. She wasn't ready to face him just yet.

_Girlfriend._

Bella felt a little guilty for hiding; she knew he was waiting for her to come back. But for some reason her feet just wouldn't move. All that confidence had flown out the door the minute Rosie laid out the reasons why Edward didn't make sense. Looking at him now though, his easy smile as he joked with Emmett, the way he rubbed his hand over his mouth, scratching lightly at his jaw… what she wouldn't give to have him stay still long enough to draw him in profile. It had become completely clear to her how the heart could rule the mind.

"Bella?" Leah tilted her head from around the corner. "Hey, I was looking for you. What, are you …hiding?" she asked with a small, delighted grin.

"No… yes. Hey, you know that guy over there?"

"Emmett?"

"No-"

"Edward?"

"Yeah. Rosie said he had a girlfriend… is that true?"

"Oh. I don't know, sweetie. I thought he did but maybe they broke up?" Leah said, raising her eyebrow. She leaned in. "He's really cute, isn't he?"

A shadow moved across Bella's face. "Not if he has a girlfriend."

"Well, I don't see her here, do you? I'd say he's fair game."

Bella just shrugged, blushing a little when she glanced up at Edward again. He looked tired, distracted. Suddenly, everything she was cried out for him, for her to pull his head down over her heart, to slide her fingers through his hair and make him tell her why he looked so worried. She pulled her arms around herself with a heavy sigh. The connection she felt to him was weird. If she wasn't careful he'd think she was completely loony.

"I was actually looking for Rose…" Leah murmured as her eyes shifted around the room. "Does she know Royce is here? Because _he_ knows _she's _here. I think he saw her talking to Emmett and he's pissed. Just give her a heads up, okay?"

Bella turned to meet her gaze. "Okay."

"I was out by my car a few minutes ago and I saw him by the side of the house shooting some shit into his arm. He didn't see me though, thank God," Leah whispered, looking over her shoulder. "She totally needs a restraining order against him, or something."

"Well, I was actually about to go out back to see if Rosie was out there. You know, going to make sure she hadn't broken her hand on his face." Bella tried to laugh but it fell flat.

"Remember it wasn't me who told you," Leah said quietly, tugging on Bella's sleeve. "Although you know Rose would have found out sooner or later. Just… he's really scary you know? I so do not want to be on his bad side. Especially if he's freaked out on meth and stuff like he is tonight."

"Believe me, I know." Bella glanced at Edward one last time. Heart or head? Some girl in a pink shirt was looking like she wanted to eat him up. _Get in line, honey._ "We're definitely leaving."

Leah nodded and threw her arms around Bella, making her giggle.

"Thanks, Leah. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yep. Bye girl," Leah whispered, squeezing her one last time before watching her ease out the door to the back.

* * *

"So talk, asshole. What's so damned important that you just had to drag me down here all because you had something to say?" Rosalie gave Royce a cold smile that made it clear he'd pissed her off well and good. Not that he cared.

"I think you owe me some kind of explanation."

"For what? I don't owe you anything."

Something wicked flashed across his face. "You think I'm blind, Rosalie? You think I didn't see how you were crawling over those two guys up there?"

"It doesn't matter what you saw, you don't own me," she spat.

"You liked the big one, didn't you?" he said, smiling pleasantly as he stepped closer. "Yeah, I always know what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours. So, what's his name? Or did you even get that far before you went and fucked him in the bathroom like a bitch in heat?"

She held her ground. "I'm not listening to this," she said in a smooth voice. Her eyes narrowed when he ran his fingers down her arms, locking his hands around her wrists. "Get off me, Royce."

"Tell me his name, sugar, and maybe I won't fuck him up too bad." He tightened his grip, grinding the delicate bones in her wrists together, grinning when she paled but didn't flinch.

"I don't know. I didn't even like him. So you can…" she grimaced, finally, "…leave him alone."

"And what do you think you're gonna do about it?"

She ignored the possessive darkness crawling to life in his eyes. "Let me _go."_ Frustration and fear churned in her gut as she tried to pull her hands away. " Leave me _alone_, you bastard_. _I'm never talking to you ever again, for any reason."

"No. You listen up, girl. The only reason you exist, Rosalie, is to belong to me. You're _mine_. You do what _I_ say."

"We've been broken up for months, you stupid idiot. I can't help the fact that those drugs make you a fucking delusional lunatic," she sobbed, panicking, hurting where he held her. "We've been broken up for _months."_

"Is that what you think?" he said softly, the darkness already in him twisting, hungry, feeding off the illegal drugs in his system, the wild light in his eyes adding to the completely unhinged picture he presented. "You think I'm a fucking delusional lunatic?"

"You're on that shit right now, you pig-fucking bastard," Rosalie snarled, nodding to his glassy eyes because he still gripped her hands. "If you think for one second-"

"I'm gonna give you five more seconds Rosalie, to shut your damn mouth," he said, smiling coldly, "or I'll shut you up myself."

"—that I'm going to stand here and take your bullshit over and over-"

"Time's almost up."

"—then you've got another-"

The sound she made when his fist slammed into her stomach gave him a rush, so he did it again, and laughed loudly when she sprawled at his feet where she fucking belonged.

* * *

When he was six, Edward saw Ariel marry Prince Eric at the Roosevelt with his mom. (He secretly thought the best part was when the Sea Witch was stabbed with the boat.) His mom had bought him popcorn _and_ Skittles, and smiled indulgently when he'd proclaimed it the best afternoon ever. Plus, the red velvet seats matched the bandana she wore around her head; that was neat. He was determined to remember every single detail that afternoon, down to the grass stain on the knee of his jeans, and the mosquito bite on his elbow, because they'd already told him that she'd be gone someday soon. Gone, and he couldn't talk to her anymore. Gone, was that like going on vacation where they didn't have phones?

A permanent vacation.

What's permanent?

Forever. Permanent means you can't change it.

Daddy, what's Soon? The day after this day?

Maybe. Or maybe next month. Soon, unless God deems your mother worthy of a Miracle.

Edward walked into his mother's bedroom that didn't really smell like her anymore and picked up the glass heart on her dressing table. It was almost too big for his hand, but he was growing everyday and it was really heavy but he liked that about it. It looked like the ocean inside the bubbly glass, all the swirly blue colors were waves and the little specks were fish. Edward was allowed to touch, but he was never supposed to leave the bedroom with it.

Mama, when you're gone can I have this?

His father had looked furious at that and stomped out of the room.

Of course, darling. You can take it now if you like.

Edward didn't like that answer. He knew the glass heart would want to stay with her as long as it could, right up until the very end, until she really did go, wherever she was going all alone. But he would take good care of it, after. Because where his mom was going, she couldn't take anything. Not one single thing.

Can I lay with you, Mama?

Sure, baby. I can't lift you up though; can you climb up here?

He carefully placed the glass heart back on the table, and climbed up beside her. He traced the swirly blue lines in her hand instead, and finished the lullaby she'd started when she got too tired.

Dad, how do you catch a Miracle?

You can't catch one, Edward. One either comes or it doesn't.

Maybe if he counted to a jillion one would come.

He even stepped on all the cracks on the way to school; he didn't miss one. If he missed one it wouldn't work. Then he heard that stepping on cracks would break his mama's back but he just laughed and said that was stupid, stupid, stupid.

But his dad had red eyes when he checked him out of school that very day, right in the middle of math.

Soon was right now.

Gone meant pain.

And an emptiness so tangible it defied logic.

When Edward was eight he had to write a book report on a fairy tale, so he choose The Little Mermaid, for his mother, and because it had a happy ending. But Disney doesn't tell eight-year-old boys that happy endings are there because they sell more movie tickets. Sometimes they find out the real ending of the story on their own, sitting in a hard, scratched-up wooden chair on the second floor of the school library. Edward already knew about sad endings though, so he wasn't surprised to find out that the little mermaid didn't really get her prince. The truth was, she'd been turned into sea foam when she just couldn't make it work out. Like his mother. She didn't get her Miracle either.

* * *

They pushed her, and when Bella's face hit the wooden railing as she went down, he lost his fucking mind. Bile burned in his throat but he gritted his teeth, and welcomed the rhythmic crack of pain in his hands because finally he could do something to punish the ones who'd dared to hurt her, fight the ache that'd settled permanently in his gut the morning he'd jogged out to offer his help to a crew of paramedics on his beach.

Garrett pleaded, "I told them, man- I told them to leave her alone-"

"Holy Jesus," he heard Seth breathe as he felt Emmett rush past them with a tremendous howl of rage.

And then nothing made sense. It was as if black and white had suddenly merged and obliterated each other, mixing and twisting until all that was left was a mottled, nondescript gray. Nothing made sense, except putting these fuckers down, one by one, and getting to Bella. Her wide eyes watched, and he had to force himself to pull back from beating someone to death… not for what the guy did, but for what he'd been planning to do. And who would believe that?

It didn't take long; Seth was there beside him, and Garrett too… and it wasn't really a fair fight at all, because the fuckers messing with his girl were drunk and sloppy, and he'd had the Florida offensive line on his side after all.

A few minutes later there was no sound except for the crickets, and the slap of water up against the boat dock.

He looked down at his bloody fists and wondered if she saw him as a monster now. Violent. One of them.

Bella had scooted out of the way, sitting huddled and pale on mounds of pine straw. Bright red blood covered the bottom half of her face, from her nose and her mouth, smeared all the way up to her ear, but that was where she'd tried to wipe the worst off with her hand. When he took a step toward her she flinched.

Shuddering, Edward squeezed his eyes shut, and dropped to his knees in front of her. He opened his hands and held them out by his side.

"I would never hurt you," he said, sounding choked.

Bella stumbled into the woods, where she proceeded to lose everything she'd eaten. After a few minutes she crawled back to him slowly, her stomach cramping painfully even after it was empty. She managed to whisper his name, and that was when she started to cry. She was crying so hard that at first she couldn't talk. She tried, but what came through was a jumbled mess.

Edward pulled her into his arms and vowed if anyone ever touched her again they were going to learn the true meaning of pain. He rubbed his nose into the tangles of her hair.

At last she murmured, "What just happened?" her mouth muffled in the smooth cotton of his t-shirt.

"Nothing," he answered, "Nothing happened." And he laughed out loud because he was so relieved.

She leaned back and looked up at him curiously, and he swore that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, all wet raccoon eyes and bloody nose.

"It was a miracle that you got here when you did," she breathed in awe. "Edward, it was a _miracle._"

He touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.

"Firefly, you have no idea."

* * *

**I just want to hug LifeInTheSnow, EdwardsBloodType and littlecat358. I've fangirl'd over all their stories at one time or another, and am humbled that they think enough of Firefly to rec it when they post. Shots of bourbon all around, ladies. :)**

**Someone nom'd me for a Sunflower Award! Firefly was nom'd in a couple of areas but my favorite was me for Master of Cliffhangers! lol There are lots of little gems over there. I'll put the link on my profile if you want to look around.**

**DiamondHeart78 reviewed Firefly over at Twificpics, Girlnorth said nice things at wordybitches(dot)com and DeeDreamer rec'd Firefly at Random Acts of Rob. You are all sweethearts! Thank you so much. Links on my profile.**

**KJ has been concerned about Edward's iPhone for a while. I used my authorly powers to remind him to turn it off to conserve the battery life. I told him he'd never know when he might need it. He had kind of an Oh Shit moment, and then a sheepish sort of smile. Thanks KJ, he said, drinks are on the house. :D**

**Last but not least, there's a note on my profile about the South's tornado relief efforts, what I'm giving and how you can help. :)**

**Next update- Next Friday! May 20th**

**Thank you for reading!**


	19. Free

**I made it! I still have about 5 more minutes of Friday where I am. :)**

**Huge thank yous to faireyfan and susayq. I was late again this week and they're so understanding. **

**I struggled with this one. les_16 held my hand and patted my back, and made me feel so much better. It's official. Everyone needs their own personal Erin.**

* * *

Emmett McCarty could spot a coward from a mile away.

When he was seven he was a scrawny thing, a poor farmer's son; and an easy target for the bigger boys on the quarter mile walk to school, one bigger boy in particular. For two years his Gran taught Em his letters in the afternoons just so he could spend his mornings helping his dad on the farm. All that changed when she'd died though, and the state sent his father a notice explaining that Emmett needed to attend a proper school with all the other children in the county.

After watching his son scarf down the evening meal for three nights in a row, Mr. McCarty had got down to business, and the truth about the stolen lunch money, the taunts about his clothes, the threats of being beaten to within an inch of his life; even the warning of Em's dog being shoved down the wood chipper had been revealed over the rice krispy treats Em had made himself.

"I'm such a coward, Dad! I don't know how to fight back," Emmett had wailed until his father pulled him to his feet, and held him firmly by the arms, looking him in the eyes.

"Well, someone's a coward but I'm pretty sure it's not you," his dad had said gruffly. "Being scared doesn't mean you're a coward, Em, hell, everybody gets scared. It's what you do in the face of that fear. Tomorrow you're gonna look that boy in the eye and say you're not a bit afraid of him. And you're gonna keep that money in your pocket, y'hear? We don't have enough for you to be giving it away."

"But what if he tries to beat me up?"

"He won't. Of all the things you wear son, what's on your face is most important. Bullies take the easy way out, believe me. He'll run for the hills if you look him in the eye and intimidate him."

Emmett's head had bobbed up and down, making his dad chuckle.

"But just in case," the big man had said with a clap on Em's shoulder, "let me show you how a man throws a punch."

In the few seconds it took for Emmett to understand what the fuck was going down and sprint past Edward toward the boat dock, his rage had morphed into the cold, calculating mindset that served him so well on the field. He skidded to a stop a few feet away from where that fried motherfucker was standing over Rosalie, grinning and rubbing his palms over his knuckles.

There was a putrid smell of standing water mixed with oil and fish guts from the cutting table, and underneath, the metallic tang of blood. He could almost taste it in the dead air around them. Royce looked up at Emmett and laughed with a sort of distorted childish delight.

Sweat curled down the sides of Emmett's face. "You're crazier than a shithouse rat," he breathed, watching in amazement as Royce's expression changed from curious laughter to disappointment, then downright petulant. He turned his head and smiled down at her.

"Pretty, isn't she?"

Em shifted on his feet, almost afraid to take his eyes off this nutbag, his ears straining for any sort of sound from Rosalie. Nothing. A quick glance down told him that she was breathing, but barely. He looked back up. Anger was a wild-eyed beast inside him but his voice was hard and cold. Dangerous.

"You touch her again, I'll kill you." He curled his fingers into fists. Relax, flex. Relax, flex.

Royce King smirked and shrugged. "She's worthless anyway," he taunted, eyes laughing. "She's a lousy fuck but she's mine."

Emmett's throat tightened at the sheer disregard in his voice. Enough talking. He took a step forward toward the inevitable and Royce's eyes widened, squaring his shoulders. Em was eager to get this over with; once he silenced this piece of shit he could see about Rose.

But Royce surprised him. Instead of drawing his arm back and throwing a punch, he charged like a bull; and while Emmett normally would have stepped out of the way, he absorbed the hit because Rosalie was lying directly in his path. He felt a _pop_ as his knee wrenched to the side but he ignored it, landing an easy uppercut square on Royce's jaw.

Royce swung a sluggish, heavy right hand at him with a grunt. Emmett ducked easily and planted both fists into Royce's middle, waiting for him to double over in pain before grabbing his hair with his left hand, executing two quick rabbit punches to bring the fucker to his knees. Normally he would have enjoyed the fight, and drawn it out. He always prided himself on fighting fair but this shit was a big motherfucking exception. Royce looked up blearily, almost confused before passing out cold, collapsing at Emmett's feet. Roughly ten seconds, give or take, Em thought, before spinning around to kneel beside the girl that he hoped to make his one day. His knee screamed at the small movement but there were more important things to worry about right now.

Sadness swept over him as he ran his eyes over her body, cataloging the damage. The inhumanity of seeing a woman senselessly beaten made his heart twist. He hadn't known Rosalie long at all. In fact, he didn't even think he knew her last name, but there was something about her… something that answered a question he hadn't even known he should ask. He wanted to know everything about her, and for her to know him. But first she needed to wake up, and soon.

"Rose? Baby, can you hear me?" he whispered into her ear, his throat thick. "You don't have to move anything else right now but you need to open your eyes."

He wiped his hands on his jeans and touched her lightly on the cheek. "Rose?"

When she finally cracked those baby blues a few seconds later she was blinded by Emmett's brilliant smile. "There you are," she whispered. A breeze came in off the water, ruffling a shiny curl at her ear. It was the only part of her hair that wasn't stained pink, as her blood mixed with the water sloshing up through the boards. He touched a nasty cut on her scalp. Not too dangerous he decided, just looked fairly gruesome.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he said, wiping his cheek, unabashed.

"My sister…" She struggled to sit up, whimpering.

"She's okay, she's fine, be still. I'm going to touch you, all right? Tell me where you hurt," he said, all business now, as he ran his big hands gently over her stomach, pressing lightly on her ribs. When she winced he nodded. "I'm getting you to a hospital."

"No."

God, she was stubborn. He bit his lip to keep from grinning.

"I think your ribs need-"

"I'm fine," she snapped.

And mean! He almost laughed.

"Get the fuck off me, Emmett McCarty." She shoved at his arm. "I don't need a hospital. I need that asshole in prison where he belongs." Her voice was weak but if words could cut, he'd still have been shredded.

He gave her a smile of pure male charm and tucked the lone curl behind her ear. "Oh baby, I think we're gonna get along just fine."

* * *

Garrett cleared his throat, discreetly reminding Edward and the dark-haired girl they weren't alone. He leaned over to check on the friend he'd met at a football camp back in high school. A friend he'd thought he knew. Adam was laid out flat on his back, looking comfortable, asleep even, in the gradual slope of the grass. Comfortable if you ignored his bloody, battered face, and the way his nose was swelling up like a grapefruit. Dude was out cold. He used his foot to push Adam over on his side in case he needed to vomit. Gross.

Edward and that girl were whispering like they were in their own little world. Man, Edward moved fast, he thought, she was already sitting on his lap with her arms all around him and shit. He didn't think they'd known each other before tonight but maybe he was wrong.

Garrett glanced back at his friend, now snoring softly. Were Adam and the rest of those guys really going to rape her? Probably not… they were probably just being assholes, playing around, trying to scare her. He would have stopped them, anyway. Before it went too far. He _did_ stop them, he and Edward and Seth. Because that shit was just wrong, ganging up on a girl like that. Wrong. It had almost gotten bad, really bad, before Edward had come out the backdoor like a crazy freight train on a mission.

But even if it'd been just him down here he'd have stopped them, he was sure of it. No matter the consequences. And then he'd have called the police, reported an assault, or attempted rape, or whatever the hell it was. He thought about calling them now but decided not to. Edward or Em could do that.

He looked back at Edward and the girl… he thought he'd heard her name was Bella. It made him uncomfortable, rattled somehow, to know her name. It made this shit feel real. He rolled his shoulders, and willed the feelings away. Did it really matter what her name was? After all, nothing really happened.

Besides, he didn't want to get too involved. He was on thin ice with the coach anyway.

He'd looked every inch of her over thoroughly, critically, flustering her in the process. She wasn't used to such scrutiny. He paid particular attention to her face, a flash of something indefinable coming over him as his thumb swept over the smooth skin above her eyebrow. Like he was expecting something that wasn't there.

Bella blinked and swallowed again and tried not to breathe on Edward directly. She'd just vomited her guts up… and that was good because she felt a little better, but bad because she was pretty sure she had the worst throw-up breath ever. Ugh. It kept getting harder and harder to swallow but the compulsive need to wouldn't stop. She was cold and felt fuzzy at the edges… and suddenly realized that her fingernails were digging into Edward's shoulders. God, how embarrassing, she was probably hurting him but he was too nice to say anything. She tried very hard to make her hands let him go but her fingers were frozen… they just wouldn't work…

"Bella." Edward's voice was firm and she forced her eyes up. "Keep looking at me, okay?"

She nodded jerkily and tried to speak but he shushed her.

"Breathe with me," he said, and the calm green of his eyes slowly loosened something in her chest. "Breathe when I breathe… now… breathe… breathe… good girl." Green… somehow she'd always known that about the man she'd love…His eyes would be green. Beautiful.

She held on to him, the only solid thing in a shifting universe, sensing the fireflies blinking in tandem at the edges of her vision. Her mind was still hazy but she felt a little better, even silly after a moment but was glad he wasn't laughing.

Abruptly she moved and he let her slide off his lap. He kept holding her hand though, and she discovered that she didn't want to let go of him, either.

"Oh," she gasped, when she found her voice; "I'm sorry, that was surreal…" she trailed off, a hand fluttering against her throat. She didn't really have an explanation for what had just happened.

"You were having a panic attack… and you're probably in shock," Edward said softly, staring at the intricate way their fingers had come together. Familiar. He smiled a little sadly. Familiar, at least to him. He looked up to find her watching him.

"That's never happened to me before." She closed her eyes while taking a deep breath. "I couldn't breathe. It was awful."

"I know," he said in a low voice, rubbing his thumb over her wrist, now cradling her hand in both of his.

"That's happened to you before?" She frowned slightly, not wanting to think about what could have made Edward feel that way. A panic attack. It sounded so severe.

"No," he said after a moment. "One time a friend of mine had one. So I looked it up. You know, to understand how to handle one, so I'd be prepared if it ever happened again."

"Lucky for me, huh?" she smiled to the wild of his hair, because he was still engrossed with her hand. He really was unlike any boy she'd ever met. Kind of serious. Not like she had any experience, but that wasn't something he really needed to know right now.

"What time is it?" she said, staring at her watch. There was no way that thing was right. She'd looked at the time right after she'd talked to Leah… right as she'd left the house. Nine minutes ago. It felt like nine hours.

"It's only been six minutes since I came to find you," he said, following her gaze up to the door before he turned back around and focused over her shoulder. "We need to get up and get out of here… check on your sister."

Bella froze. _Rosie!_ How could she have forgotten? "Edward…" A pause, as if she were gathering her strength, determined to be brave. "How… Is she okay?" she said in a trembling voice. And here came the tears again. She swiped them away with a growl that made Edward hug her to his chest one last time, kiss her hard on the temple before blowing out a resigned sigh.

He wiped under her eye with his thumb. "Emmett's with her. Come on, I'll help you up."

* * *

Afterwards.

Afterwards was not something Edward had even really thought about as he walked back through the party in search of Bella's purse while she waited in the car with her sister.

So what happens now? Bella was free. Free to live her life without tragedy holding her back, free to be the person she wanted to be without guilt or regret. Free from the shadows he'd gotten so used to seeing in her eyes back in Summerside.

The beautiful life in Summerside helped to balance out that horrible night, Bella had said one time. She'd drawn pictures in the wet sand with a stick while he sat beside her with grit in his swim trunks, fascinated with the red on her toenails. The ceaseless give and take of the water soothed her, she'd whispered, because she knew what to expect, no surprises. Edward had become a pro at admiring her body in his peripheral vision; he'd learned not to look at her as she talked about difficult things. She'd say more that way.

With her future so altered, what was stopping her from living the life she'd always dreamed? The sky was the limit, isn't that what they always said? Suddenly it felt selfish to want to keep her a secret in tiny little Summerside, painting touristy seascape canvases because that was what people wanted to buy on their vacations. If she didn't need the balance, she didn't need Summerside.

She might not need him.

* * *

Finding Bella's purse had been a surprisingly tall order because they all looked alike, at least to him. When he finally stepped out into the driveway he found a boy talking to Bella… and standing entirely too close. He wore faded jeans that sat low on his hips, and the leather of his boat shoes squeaked slightly as he rocked back and forth on his heels. Despite the obvious twitch in the guy's elbows every few seconds, his hands stayed deep in his pockets, as if he wasn't quite sure why he felt like he shouldn't touch her.

Edward bristled, feeling like he had every right to claim her, and no right at all.

_I'll tell you why, asshole. I just put down three other motherfuckers that thought they could mess with my girl tonight, and I'm not afraid to make it four. I've been changing futures left and right; so don't tempt me to change yours for the worse. Piece of advice… keep your hands in your fucking pockets._

"Bella," Edward said without a hint of question in his voice as he stepped up beside her. He felt the need to be the one to get closer and invade her space, tower over her to block anyone else from her sight but him, push her against a wall and bend his head in a slow progression of lips against her neck… but in the end he only smiled weakly, staying civilized. By a very small margin.

He flexed his hand.

Bella was standing backed up against the side of the truck with her arms wrapped around her middle, letting her hair hide the multitude of emotions he suspected danced across her face. Edward was fairly proficient in the language of Bella, after all. She didn't feel threatened but it wasn't somewhere she wanted to be, either.

He dangled her purse from his finger.

"Edward." The relief in her voice was unmistakable. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Tyler, I'll talk to you later, okay? I gotta go."

"Sure," he said, in a smooth, deep voice. "I'll call you." His gaze flicked over to Edward, a light of challenge in his eyes before he turned and headed back into the party.

* * *

The thirty-minute car ride to Rosie's apartment was tense and dark, the headlight beams splitting the interstate with a ghostly letter W. Emmett opted for no music and no one felt like talking. Em and Rosalie had apparently managed to come to some sort of agreement. No hospital, but Jasper was going to check over their injuries in the morning. Then he agreed to take them to her apartment only if he and Edward could stay on the couch, in case anyone showed up. Emmett didn't think Jasper and Alice would appreciate the four of them showing up after midnight anyway, all cuts and bruises and bloody lips, looking for a place to crash. Better to let the girls regroup in their own surroundings. He was also very aware of the fact that they'd all just met. He was thankful that he'd known Leah practically all his life… Rose obviously put a lot of stock into what she thought. Probably the only reason she was allowing them to help.

Edward stared out the window at nothing, brooding, listening to both girls sleep in the back seat.

"Is there anything you need?" Edward peered around the corner of the room Bella was staying in. "Ice cream?" he shrugged, not wanting to come across as too desperate, even though that's exactly what he was.

That earned a laugh; the little wrinkle above her nose when she smiled at him was a bonus. He watched her move around the room because she hadn't told him to go away. She was shy, but open, friendly in a genuine way, and her eyes snapped with life and humor even at one in the morning. He would have liked to think that she was like this because of him, but he knew better. This was Bella Before.

He was reminded of a road he'd driven down with Pete one year when they'd gone into town for something or other. The road was stunning… beautiful old houses, oak trees that canopied over the pavement of the sidewalks, azaleas bright and cheerful, hugging up to the sides of their porches. He told Pete how nice he thought the street was.

Pete had glanced out the windshield. "Yeah, well, this particular street was hit hard by the hurricane a couple of years ago. You should have seen it Before. Before the hurricane… man, this street was _really_ something."

And then Edward had looked around with new eyes, noticing for the first time the scars on the giant trees that had weathered the storm. There were gaps in the landscape, where something had been but was now gone forever, maybe only remembered in photographs and memories. Suddenly all the disparities seemed so obvious, and that was _all_ he saw. But people still lived here. Happy. They loved this street; he saw them out walking their dog as they drove past, washing the car. Reading the Sunday funnies on the front porch. Some of the huge trees still had support boards, nailed in to help them live after being ravaged by nature. They were healthy. And beautiful, even with their scars.

"Edward, you don't have to lurk in the doorway," Bella laughed, bringing him out of his head. "I mean, I know we don't know each other very well… on the other hand, maybe we do…" she bit her lip. "Maybe I should say we haven't known each other very _long_." She smiled shyly. "I won't bite, okay? I heard you have a girlfriend… or something like that and that's okay… really."

Edward blinked. "What?"

"It's just that I'm kind of wired and not sleepy. We can talk if you want to. We don't have to sit on the… bed. I mean, if you're not sleepy," she rambled on, her hand tugging and twisting on the ends of her hair.

Edward leaned against the doorframe, amazed that her familiar gestures could send lust, fear and wonder rocketing through his body, all at the same time.

"If you are then that's totally fine, um… here, I can give you an extra pillow. How many do you like? I've got a small one that-"

"Wait, no. I mean, yes to the pillow but… I don't have a girlfriend. Where'd you hear that?" He frowned.

"Um. I don't know. I think it was Rosie that said something," she scowled, hands tightening on her hairbrush. "Suddenly I'm not surprised."

She watched him wander into the room, a little preoccupied. She wanted to bang her head against the wall, angry at herself. Babbling on about nothing when she got nervous was so unbelievably embarrassing. She was amazed he was still here, if she were to be completely honest. And the busted lip and ugly bruises coming up on her face were certainly not helping her look any sort of appealing.

The little drawing on her dresser had captivated him somehow. He was holding it reverently when he suddenly turned and slid his back down the wall, sitting on the floor. He looked so lost; her heart went out to him. She walked over and sat across from him on the carpet.

"This is you, isn't it? The little girl in this drawing." He held it gingerly in his hands.

When he looked up she was stunned to see such emotion in his eyes. It was shocking enough to make her forget what he'd asked her.

She tilted her head and studied the sketch, though she knew it by heart.

"Bella." His eyes glittered at her.

"Um, yes. Me. My dad was really talented. He could have been an artist if he wanted to, but he decided to be a policeman instead."

"Your _dad_," he breathed, as though it'd been an answer he'd been trying to find for some time. A small smile crossed his face. "He called you… Starfish? There's gotta be a story behind that name."

And there was that phantom pain in his face again. Bella bit her lip. Maybe Edward was having some sort of reaction to what happened tonight. That would be understandable… they'd both been through something horrible and frightening. Why else would he be staring like this at something he'd never even seen before? This little drawing meant the world to her, but why would it bring out such a response in him?

Her heart sank suddenly. She knew what was wrong, why he seemed so emotional. The last vestiges of grief still shadowed his eyes… she hadn't noticed before. But now it seemed so clear.

He'd lost someone.

She looked at him sadly. "Someone's broken your heart, haven't they? Your girlfriend."

He looked stricken, and paled right in front of her eyes. "I... uh. I don't know what..." He took a deep breath. "I mean, _how_ to tell you."

She wondered who it was. He must have loved her so, so much. It was obvious that he did. Jealousy bloomed hot and fierce in the pit of her stomach.

"Edward," she smiled tightly. "It's okay. It's none of my business- I just... I don't know." Blushing now, she mumbled, "I t-thought maybe..." She voice dwindled, and she shrugged, embarrassed.

"No." He grabbed her hands. "Bella- I want to be with you. Only you. It's just, maybe I can explain later. I want to tell you everything. I _will_," he squeezed her hands desperately. "I _will_ tell you everything. I'm just not really ready for you to think I'm crazy."

"What? I'd never think you were crazy," she said, squeezing his fingers. "It doesn't matter, anyway. But just for the record? That other girl, she's the crazy one."

"Yeah," he said, staring at her raptly. A hesitant smile crossed his face and he dropped his eyes. "Yeah, I'll tell her that. Someday. Soon, I hope."

"Yeah," Bella faltered. That hurt. He must be hoping to get back together with her… or something. Of course. She drew in a quivering breath and gently pulled her hands away. She got up quickly, holding a hand out for her dad's artwork. "Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn't that what they say?" she said brightly, glad he couldn't see her face. She was so tired of being second best. She got it; Edward might want to be with her right now, but his heart belonged to someone else. She wondered what it would take to change his mind. Maybe kissing... lots of kissing. Maybe more.

And then she thought of Rosie, and what could happen when you threw your life away for a boy. Especially one that was in love with something else... like money, or drugs or another person.

"Bella," he murmured, almost reproachfully, standing up.

She tucked her father's drawing in the top drawer, out of sight, trying to ignore the way her blood fired from the inside out at the mere sound of his voice. He stood so close behind her she could feel his wisp of breath on her neck, his heat through her pajama top.

She shivered and decided that she was tired of thinking. She wanted to feel.

* * *

**I can't promise an update next Friday and I'm sorry about that! It's true that most of this is written, but it's still like putting a puzzle together every week. I'll still do teasers. :)**

**Thanks for being so understanding**


	20. Kiss

**Hey guys :) More from me at the bottom.**

* * *

Her soft words were sad and curious, so innocent.

_Someone's broken your heart, haven't they?_

Oh God, yes. Shattered. Obliterated. There were times when he'd laid his hand across his chest and been surprised to feel the mechanical thump churning away. Because in all the other ways, the only ways that mattered, his heart had stopped beating when hers did.

Standing close behind her in her sister's apartment, his eyes were locked on the freckled skin of her shoulder peeking past the white strap of her tank top. He'd kissed that spot before, that small pattern of freckles at the top of her shoulder blade. Once in his bedroom and once on the beach when he'd tugged the strap of her suit aside to put his tongue on her salty skin. She'd squealed and laughed and spun around in his arms. She'd sparkled. It was the day before Valentine's Day, the day before he knew what it was like to have his reason for existing simply… disappear.

His stomach felt queasy with the memory of it. It had been surprising, the physical pain of seeing just her hand, of knowing but not believing. The combination of the wind and salt and beginning cold-sting of rain, the vibrant flash of red as her towel spun adrift in the sand, the weight of her necklace as the paramedic dropped it into his hand. They marked the moment he realized she really was gone from this world. He wondered if this was how Bella had felt when faced with the merging of seemingly innocent everyday things, how they sometimes combined to create a booby trap in disguise. How just the smell of pine sap and sweat could make her go pale. But that wasn't this Bella. His Firefly didn't exist anymore. It was hard to remember that sometimes.

He shook his head in a harsh negative, trying to wipe away the mishmash of nauseating images and brought himself back to the present. The present… wasn't that a big fucking laugh. So what would that make his memories? The past or the future?

Her ponytail was loose and messy, a few shiny strands of hair slipping out to sway back and forth with his breath. She smelled exactly the same, God help him. He wondered if she'd taste the same, if she would make the same breathy sounds when he ran his hands over breasts… if she'd shudder and quake in his arms when she came, like she'd done before.

What would she do, this Bella Before, if he put his open mouth on that curve of her neck, right before it melted into her shoulder? Would she fall back against him, tilt her head to the side, let him use his teeth, his tongue… let him slowly move his hand down, down, inside the front of her little striped pajama pants, where he just knew she'd be hot and slick…

Bella turned abruptly, fierce and determined. He'd seen flashes of fire from her before, but not like this. It was all he could do to remember to breathe.

"I don't care," she said hotly. "Why are you here, anyway?" She splayed her hands against his chest like she wanted to push him away. "You don't even _know_ me and you look at me like… like I'm some mythical creature out of a book and you can't believe I'm here right in front of you. Why? And I don't…" she waved at the air between them, "I don't get… _this_."

"You don't get what?" His words were husky, his eyes so intent she felt owned. He stepped closer, and her back pressed up against the drawers. Slowly he brought his hands up on either side of her and braced them on the dresser she was leaning on, effectively snaring her within the cage of his arms. He dipped his head, a whispered breath hot on her cheek. "I'll tell you what this is, Bella." He moved in closer, so close she could feel the hammering of his heart, so close that when he put his mouth at her ear, she felt his tongue as he licked his lips before he spoke.

"This is me…" he kissed the skin beneath her ear.

"kissing you…" he licked lightly at her collarbone.

"goodnight…" he moved up and stared into her glazed eyes before softly pressing his lips against hers. As his hands moved to twist in her hair, the elastic of her ponytail fell soundlessly to the floor.

He stopped before he went completely caveman and did something appalling, before he thrust his tongue in her mouth and shoved her up against the wall, grinding into her senselessly. Actually that sounded like heaven but there was no way he was doing that to Bella, a sweet innocent girl of seventeen. A girl that had just been assaulted only a few hours ago. A girl, that for all intents and purposes, he'd just met. At least in _her_ eyes they'd just met.

He eased back, male gratification tingling through him somewhat that she looked a little awestruck, her mouth falling open in a tiny gasp. Wanting her under him, around him, fused together so tightly in the bed that they'd never come up for air was a force so strong it was currently trying to punch a hole through the crotch of his jeans. It wasn't this way in Summerside, he swore it wasn't. There'd been that unspoken need to go slow, once they'd decided to get past the friend thing. Pete's chair not withstanding, he didn't think there was any way he would have been able to throw _that_ Bella up against a wall and have his down and dirty way with her, even if she'd asked.

But look at her now. She was literally panting and staring at him with a concentration that should have made him run and duck for cover. Damn, he could feel her all over his skin and they weren't even touching.

"What was _that?"_ she said quietly, color rising in her cheeks. He was amazed to see that she wasn't embarrassed; she was still spoiling for a fight.

He couldn't help his grin. She was glorious. "What. You want me to tuck you in too?"

"I don't think I'd call that a kiss."

"What would you call it then? It sure felt like a kiss to me."

"It wasn't a _real_ kiss."

"You said yourself we didn't even know each other, and now you're wanting real kisses? I don't think-"

"Shhh." She frowned, putting her hand over his mouth. "Stop that," she whispered, and he obeyed… only to grab her by the elbow and pull her against him, hard. He kissed her again, gently, before moving down and back up her neck.

"I was afraid of hurting your lip," he muttered, over her mouth again, licking at her lightly. "Does it hurt?"

"No," she lied. Her hands traveled up his neck into his hair, so that he curled himself over her even more, closer. The anticipation of him was a corkscrew in her belly, twisting, turning, coiling… she almost laughed at the image of the cork popping out. But more than that, she felt like she would die if he didn't stop playing and just do it. She'd only ever kissed Tyler, and it was nothing, nothing, _nothing_ like this.

"Tell me if your lip hurts, okay?" More tiny kisses. "Tell me if I hurt you." He was back at her mouth again, his short choppy breaths making her desperate. She could feel him tremble under her hands.

"No. I won't," she whispered.

"What?" He drew back slightly.

"Because I don't want you to stop." And in that moment, it felt as though something changed in the air between them, in her very soul. She pressed her open mouth over his; licking inside before he could raise any sort of protest.

He laughed and then groaned her name and then she found herself up against the wall, being kissed to within an inch of her life.

Well, she'd asked for it, hadn't she?

* * *

They were sinking together, the floor coming up slowly to meet them like the rising ripples of a growing tide pool, and he could almost hear the roar in his ears as he pulled her into him. He had an angry flash of surrendering, of breaking the promise he'd made to himself to not take advantage of her for so many reasons. He was going to hell, he was sure of it.

She exhaled hotly against his mouth, the flavor of her flooding him, all sex and strawberries, salty and sweet summer rain. The mindless slow grind of their mouths together turned his head to mush, and all he could think was _Bella_ and _more_ and the pure pleasure of having her body close to his.

Her face was fragile as he cradled her head in his hands, a sharp contrast to the way he was absolutely abusing her mouth. She broke away with a gasp for air, and he moved down to the curve of her neck with the panicky sense of not getting enough, wanting to bite into her, or press himself so far into her he came out the other side. He blinked, realizing he was hunched over her body, her back flat on the floor with his knee snug in between her legs.

It was like a cold bucket of water over his head.

"No," he mumbled, "nonono…" He pushed himself back and landed on his ass. He felt sick, and ecstatic and monstrous. His hands were still curved like claws from holding her.

She was up on her elbows immediately, pale and uneasy. "I'm sorry. I-" she paused, hand at her throat as if to hold the words there. To make sure those were the ones she wanted to say.

"I can't," he managed, eyes pained, dark with secrets.

"Right," she nodded, her voice a little high and then shook her head. "No, you're right." And she stared at him with huge eyes as she hugged herself into a tiny little ball on the carpet. Until she jumped up and locked herself in the bathroom.

* * *

At three in the morning it started to rain. He stood in the darkened kitchen with a cup of cranberry juice and a handful of cheerios, watching the raindrops play follow-the-leader down the glass. Emmett and his big man snores had taken over the couch right outside the door to Rosalie's room.

As for him, he'd left his heart down the hall behind the last door to the left. After she'd fled to the bathroom and started the shower again (the third time since he'd been there) he'd stayed there on the floor of her room in a stupor before he roused himself enough to crawl outside to the hallway. The sounds of her getting ready for bed, brushing teeth and ferreting out new pajamas, relaxed him, even though he knew he wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon. He had hoped against hope that she would ask him back in her room, even if it came with the stipulation that he sit in the corner and keep his hands to himself. But she hadn't, choosing to turn out the light and settle between the sheets of her bed.

Cheerios now gone, he installed himself back on the floor outside her bedroom door and stretched his legs. She'd been restless since she'd managed to fall asleep. It reminded him of when she'd been sick that fall; it seemed like ages ago. With a solid basis in friendship, he'd felt no shame in holding her when she'd been scared. He hadn't been afraid she'd take it the wrong way… because he hadn't _meant_ it that way, even though the craving to have her was always in the background, a constant hum. But now, now she probably thought he was just another guy trying to get into her pants, no matter how much of a connection they had. He had to get himself under control. Bella deserved better than this.

She yelped in her sleep and Edward lurched nervously. He sat up, away from the wall and gripped his head in his hands, listening to her fighting those guys in her sleep.

"Edward…" she whisper-moaned, and he was up in a flash, swaying on the balls of his feet by her door, undecided. When she called him again he stuck his head in the door. She shifted and kicked under the comforter.

"Bella," he said in an even voice.

She stilled, and then sat up in the middle of bed.

"You were dreaming," he said from the doorway.

She sighed then, a weighty sound, and held a shaky hand out to him while she pushed her hair back from her face. He shuffled in hesitantly, and crawled up beside her, close, but not close enough to touch. She sniffed, and dragged her palms across her cheeks, irritated.

"I'm not crying," she said crossly.

"Okay." He felt like an oaf, hulking over her but she didn't seem bothered, even though she was trembling.

"This is not going to affect me!" she said rigidly, glaring at him.

"Of course it is," he whispered. "I know it affected _me_."

Bella flopped back on the pillows in a soft exhale. "It was bad for you too?"

He lay down beside her, slowly, as if she were some exotic bird that might be startled into flying away. "You even have to ask that?"

"No," she said after a moment. She reached blindly for his hand, rubbing her thumb gently over his bruised knuckles.

They held hands, staring at the ceiling for long minutes.

"Aren't you sleepy?" she asked, turning her head slightly.

"A little," he said, even though he wasn't. "You go on to sleep though, okay?"

"Okay," she said in a small voice. "You don't have to leave… I mean, unless you need to." She shifted onto her side to face him. "But… is this alright?" she asked, pressing her fingers into his.

"Yes," he said, almost reverently, "of course it is." He was staggered by the amount of trust she'd placed in him, in such a short time.

She fell asleep almost immediately, and to his infinite pleasure and pain, inched over and tucked herself into his arm. He wanted to lie there and hold her until the weight of her body was locked into his memory. Her hand flexed sleepily against his chest and he kissed her on the forehead, wondering what would happen if he went to sleep.

He didn't find out, because the fear of waking up alone in 2009 was too great. Eventually the sun came up and spilled onto the bed, turning her hair to russet and gold.

* * *

**I'm so lucky to have wonderful friends who dedicate their time and brain power to this story. They give insightful comments and encouragement, and delicately remind me to use a period once in a while, instead of a million commas. :) Thank you faireyfan, susayq and les16**

**Love and peanuts to my maroon and gold sis Becky (rtgirl), who renamed a whole day, just for me. FireflyFriday!**

**Thank you for nominating me for Best Novice Author at the Avant Garde Awards! I don't know about best, but novice is certainly true. :)**

**This chapter is a bit shorter than usual... I thought maybe that would be better than not posting at all. Summer is here and suddenly my time is not my own. But I promise to do my best. We're more than halfway through, but the story is far from over.**

**Thank you all for reading. if you tweet, come find me. (primarycolors1) I can be chatty. :)**


	21. Recalculating

**Hey everyone :D**

**Thank you to faireyfan, susayq and les16. I owe them so much.**

**Happy Birthday to Bellalove72! You share it with my little girl so it's extra special ;)**

* * *

There was a warm boy curled around her back when Bella opened her eyes. Over her shirt, his hand was splayed high around her ribcage, his index finger tucked under her breast, pinkie down by her belly button, his thumb reaching for the thump of her heart. It seemed as if he was trying to cover as much territory as possible, holding her with a _possessive_ light touch, if there was such a thing. For now though, it was a modest position… with all _sorts_ of immodest possibilities.

Thoughts of immodest possibilities with Edward made her breath come out in choppy little bursts, and she wondered if he was awake enough to feel the sudden craziness of her heart. She hoped not. It was way too embarrassing. Especially since he was the one to put a halt to what they were doing last night. Actually, she was glad he stopped… later, after she got over the absolute mortification of being rejected. She'd never done that before, offering herself to a boy like that. It was shameful, liberating and… in every way incredible, like nothing she'd ever felt before. An illicit thrill ran through clear to her toes when she thought about that soft needy sound he'd made when she'd pressed her chest against his and kissed him back, even though it'd stung the hell out of her lip. Yeah, it had hurt, but holy crow, it'd _so_ been worth it.

But then, there on the edges of her conscience was that shame, too, because she wasn't that kind of girl. This wasn't her, lying in bed with a guy she'd only known less than twelve hours. It didn't matter that they did nothing more than kiss. He was wrapped around her for goodness sake. She wasn't even wearing a _bra!_ What must Edward think of her? And then suddenly being close to Edward made her think of those boys on the steps of the lake house, and the things they'd said. The way they'd looked at her, they'd stared at places polite boys shouldn't look, they had a sort of coldness in their eyes she'd never encountered before.

But that wasn't Edward, she reminded herself. Edward had saved her.

Edward had said that he'd never hurt her.

So she made herself be still, pretending that her frenzied heartbeat was not panic, but still excitement. Why was this so confusing?

Why couldn't she just… get away from these feelings? She yearned to disappear. She ached for the childhood bedroom that she'd just packed up for college… the stuffed Snoopy she'd left guarding her bed, the tiger-eye rocks on her windowsill… that little space inside her closet where she used to draw and listen to her dad's Pink Floyd CDs.

Her stomach flipped, not in a good way. What would her dad think about Edward?

And that did it. Thinking about Charlie frowning under his mustache and watching her from heaven was sufficient enough to make her try to squirm out of Edward's hold and into the bathroom so she could brush her teeth.

Except his hand tightened around her. And he was so close she actually felt him swallow before he hummed into her hair.

"Wait," he murmured in a raspy voice. "Stay. Just for a few more minutes."

"Okay," she said. And there really was no other answer. Edward wanted her to stay. The notion made her perfectly giddy and her stomach flipped again. In the good way.

* * *

"What the fuck, Em? I thought you said your knee was fine?" Edward gaped at the way Emmett was hobbling himself toward the kitchen. He hadn't been walking that way in front of Rosalie.

"It _is_ fine. I just twisted it. I just need to go see Jas," he muttered in a short clip. "He'll fix it."

"Let me drive then. You can prop it in the back, okay?"

"No. I'm driving." He rummaged around in the cabinets for a minute and then gave up, frustrated. "Advil?" he asked quietly, glancing at Edward. "Just to keep the swelling down. It doesn't hurt."

"Right," Edward said softly, finding the bottle in a drawer and tossing it.

"Thanks."

Emmett was pale, and the hair at his temples was damp, from perspiration or the shower, Edward couldn't tell. "Jesus, Em… here." He ran a glass of water for him when Emmett swallowed a small handful of the tablets dry. "How many did you take?"

Em braced his hands on the counter and bowed his head. "Not too many. I weigh almost 290lbs, alright? I know how much to take."

"Sure, man. I know you do." Edward kicked the side of the counter in a purely recreational fashion. "I hope they work for you; I've had a splitting headache for hours that I can't get to go away."

"Look. The press can't hear about this, okay? There won't be a problem here but the closer we get to Jasper's and campus… there'll be people who'll get on the horn to the fans, fucking message boards and then we'll have news crews up my ass and Coach will just… aw, hell. It's probably nothing, right? Jas will fix it. That's his job. He'll know what to do."

Edward hesitated. "Why would people notice what you're doing now? It's not even fall yet."

"Don't be a dumbass, E. You've lived here enough to know that people go to church on Sunday but their real religion is every other day of the week. Doesn't matter what season it is. People down here live and breathe college football. I get ten people a day stopping me in the grocery store asking me how I think the season will go, how I'm feeling or whether I think we're gonna beat Auburn this year." He scrubbed his face wearily. "Just… _fuck_."

"I don't think I ever realized how much pressure you were under," Edward said softly. His eyes suddenly widened. "I mean, _are_ under. Are."

"It's alright." Emmett waved him off and settled back on the barstool, visibly trying to shake off his mood. He took a good, hard look at his best friend. "Edward… man you look like shit. Didn't you get any sleep?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "A little."

Em drained his water. "Rose is packing a few things." He swiveled in his seat to check the hallway and then turned back to Edward. "Bella… you bringing her? I don't feel right about her staying here by herself. Rose said she wasn't going to make her come but…" he drummed on the counter, agitated. "She'd probably come if you asked her to, right?"

A small nod. "I'll take care of it."

"Good, good," he stared into space before focusing back to Edward. "Man, I can't believe those assholes last night," he said in a loud whisper. "I made Rose call that anonymous police hotline last night. Evidentially that fucker has all kinds of meth lab shit at one of his houses right off the Florida State campus. Can you believe that shit? His dad's a fucking senator!" He shook his head. "What an idiot."

Edward's eyes darkened, deadly. "Do you have any idea what they were going to do to those girls?"

"Yeah, but—hey babe," Emmett brightened at Rosalie coming down the hall. Bella trailed behind her, an unreadable expression on her face. Edward moved to meet her.

"We'll catch you guys in about… 30 minutes?" Edward said quietly to Em as he backed out of the kitchen and turned around. "Hey beautiful," he smiled at Bella. "Come out with me for a bit."

* * *

There was a park outside of the apartment complex, complete with swings, pigeons and an ice cream man.

Edward's stomach pitched every time he looked at Bella's swollen lip. She'd refused a bag of ice, but he doubted she'd refuse ice cream. Plus, he thought getting out doors for a bit before they got back into the car would be good.

"Well that was a lucky guess," Bella smirked up at him over the top of her dripping cone.

"What," Edward said in a distracted way, as his eyebrows came together. He grabbed her arm so he could bend down and swipe at her ice cream with his tongue. "Sorry," he laughed. "You were about to lose it, really, fudge ripple would've been all over the sidewalk."

"A travesty."

"Yes," he nodded, crinkling his eyes at her, a sideways glance. "So what was lucky?"

"Oh," she hummed into her ice cream, watching the breeze flirt with his hair. "Well, it was a lucky guess that you picked vanilla fudge ripple because that's my favorite."

"Lucky guess, yeah," he said down to his shoes, burying the memory of Bella standing in front of the ice cream counter in Mrs. Cope's grocery store, debating whether to branch out and try something new or to stay with her old standby. "You looked like a vanilla fudge ripple kind of girl to me."

"And you look like a mint chocolate chip kind of guy. But I can't believe you wouldn't get anything else."

"I'll survive," he laughed. "But I can't believe that any self-respecting ice cream truck wouldn't have mint chocolate chip." He made an exaggerated pouty face.

"Oh, you've got to quit… it hurts to smile! Don't make me laugh," she stifled a giggle, touching the corner of her mouth with her finger.

He faltered for only a moment before grinning, "I can't help it if I'm naturally so sparkly and entertaining."

She smiled and shook her head and he let her eat her ice cream, a pleasant kind of awkwardness between them as they walked. After she finished, she turned to face him, somewhat resolved. She pulled him over to a shady stone bench.

"So," she began, losing a bit of her courage and fiddling with the wrapper from her cone, "my sister made an anonymous tip to the police last night." She looked up to gauge his reaction. "I mean, I think there's a lot he could get busted for. Drugs and stuff." She blinked at him. "Royce," she explained patiently, because suddenly he was just so _quiet_.

He sat beside her, motionless, waiting. The shadows of the willow tree played and dappled across their faces as she struggled with what to say.

"I don't know what to do, Edward. I'm afraid to stay in that apartment. I think I need to go home to Jacksonville. My mom isn't there, but…" She rubbed the heel of her hand over her heart, as if to wipe away the sudden twist of pain. She didn't want to leave him. How in the world could she feel this much for someone she'd just met?

He nodded, catching her gaze, holding it. "Come here."

She clutched him around the middle and laid her head on his chest. He stroked her hair. "You don't want to go to Jacksonville."

"No."

"You trust me, right?"

"I don't know. Yes." She sighed, searching herself. "It depends, I guess, on what you think I should do. Maybe."

"You know what we're doing, where we're going. Don't you want to be with your sister?"

"Well, sure, but… she's kind of with Emmett." Bella's voice sounded weary, weighted with the painful echoes of memories, long standing disappointments. Suddenly she deflated and sagged against him on the bench. The last time she'd seen her sister, Rosie was glaring from across the bedroom, angry at the world. And the world included Bella. "I've never understood her, and I've known her my entire life! She's acting like this whole thing didn't even happen last night. She wouldn't talk about it. She didn't even ask about…" Bella reached up and unknowingly touched the darkening bruise on her cheek, hidden by her sunglasses. "I can't believe she reported Royce to the police… I mean, that was huge, I'm proud of her for that but…"

"I think that was all Emmett. He wanted to do more, take you guys to the hospital but she wouldn't budge." His voice rumbled gently under her cheek.

"Oh, that makes sense then," she murmured. "He probably threatened to march her right into the ER if she didn't do something." Edward smelled so wonderful, like the sea and sunshine, a cool breeze at midnight and a turbulent storm way off in the distance. She closed her eyes, breathing him in. She never wanted to leave him, this moment, the quick thump of his heart that matched her own. It should scare her. But it didn't.

"I really didn't mean to be so needy last night," she whispered.

"You weren't," he answered, knowing she was thinking about calling for him from her bed. "I felt better being in there next to you."

"How's your hand?"

"Fine." He flexed experimentally. "A little sore. You're probably sore too."

"It hurts to smile. But I already said that."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, settling his chin on the top of her head.

"Can I just… say something? Why do I feel like I know you? I mean, a part of me is very aware that I know nothing about you. But then the other part… the part that kind of disappears when I try to look too close… that part feels like I've _always_ known you. I'm sure you probably think I'm crazy. And wow… just, horribly cliché." She grimaced.

"No."

"Or that I'm weird and trying to go all stalker on you."

He snorted a laugh.

"Maybe it's like this because I'm just a little seventeen year old nothing."

"You're not-"

"Or maybe this is a sort of Florence Nightingale situation. You know, you saved me, so now you feel attrac—uh, responsible for me."

"Bella…" he drawled with a note of disapproval. "I think you know better than that… at least I hope you do." He pushed her back to see her face, frowning, looking as if he wanted to say something else but opened his bottle of water instead.

"You know that movie Back to the Future?" she asked abruptly.

He choked on his drink.

"Yeah," she sighed, "I know it's old, you probably haven't seen it."

"I have," he sputtered, clearing his throat.

"Oh- well, remember the part where his mom, except she's young then, in high school… remember when she helps Marty when he's hit by the car? And then, well, she kinda falls in love because she's taking care of him."

Edward rubbed his jaw to stifle a grin. This was too good to pass up. "Are you trying to tell me I'm in love with you?"

Bella blushed violently. "No! No, I'm not saying that at all! I didn't- I mean _how_…" she blew out a fierce breath in exasperation. Here she was trying to be serious, but that smile of his was doing things to her, melting her from the inside out. "I _meant_ that you shouldn't feel _obligated_ to me."

"I don't. Well, not in the way you think." He really needed to see her. Lifting her sunglasses up slowly, he fixed them so that they sat on top of her head like a headband, holding her hair off her face. "There. You like to wear your sunglasses like this."

A flicker of surprise lit her eyes.

"What's between us isn't just obligation, Bella, although I do choose to feel responsible for you. I don't want you to go to Jacksonville," he said softly. "But if you did go, I wouldn't let you go alone." He leaned over, kissing her jaw before moving his lips to her ear. "And just for the record, it would be very easy to fall in love with you."

"You talk as if you've known me for a long time," she whispered, shivering.

"Maybe there's something in me that recognizes something in you." He smiled, dropping his forehead down to touch hers. "That's better than Florence Nightingale, right?"

"Mmmhmm…" Eyes slipped shut; she realized her heart was doing that jittery thing again. She slid her hand around to the back of his neck. It would be so easy to give up to Edward. Maybe she should.

He kissed her gently, mindful of the tender part of her mouth. "We should go," he murmured against her neck after a moment. "They're probably ready."

"Edward, maybe you should take a nap in the car," she frowned at him as they crossed the street. "You look so tired."

"I'm not," he groused, and right on cue, yawned hugely. "Shuddup," he scowled at her, smiling as she giggled. "That was total power of suggestion and you know it."

* * *

They sat in the "way back" as Bella called it, the third row of Emmett's giant SUV. Almost immediately, Edward felt the delicious pull of sleep, as he was surrounded by the quiet hum of the engine and Bella's soft hands, smoothing away the smudges under his eyes. She'd insisted on putting his head on her lap so he did, and he had to fight, really fight to stay conscious.

"Why are you fighting it?" she murmured down at him, the curtain of her hair tickling his throat. If she bent down a little further she could kiss him. He wondered if, in the short time they'd known each other this go 'round, if she'd thought about kissing him as much as he'd thought about doing those things to her. God, he was comfortable.

He snapped his eyes open, unaware that they'd closed.

"Edward…" she soothed, "close your eyes…" She sounded far away. He hummed in pleasure as her fingers moved through his hair.

He opened his eyes again. He needed some of those Bugs Bunny toothpicks they used in cartoons to keep eyelids perpetually open.

"You won't forget me, will you?" he slurred, burrowing his nose into her stomach. She smelled like heaven. "If I suddenly disappear?"

"Never," she said conspiratorially, close to his ear. She found it funny and incredibly endearing to make him stretch his chin up a little to keep her nails running through the bristles along his jaw. He was like a big cat. All he needed now was to purr into her lap and she'd be a goner. Not that she wasn't already. "Now why would you disappear?"

"Only Dr Shan knows," he mumbled, a small part of him aware that what he said would be taken as nonsense. "Talk to me Firefly, keep me awake."

"Alright." A whisper. "Tell me about your family." His beautiful green eyes were still open but muted, unfocused. She ran a light thumb over his eyebrow. Any minute now and he'll be snoring…

"There's a lady I know where I'm from…" he said faintly. "She makes wonderful pies. All kinds."

Bella hummed at him, grazing her fingers through the hair over his ear. "You're dreaming, Edward… you're dreaming with your eyes open," she murmured.

"She makes pecan for you… that's your favorite."

She smiled to herself. Two lucky guesses in one day. "In Chicago?"

"Nonono… Summerside." He sighed, a smile flitting across his face, eyes finally closed.

She looked at him thoughtfully, somehow frowning without losing her smile. "I thought you said you were from Chicago."

"Hmmm, that's where I'm from…" A long pause. She thought he'd fallen asleep. "But where I'm really _from_…" he mumbled, "well, that's different."

Clear as mud. She smiled, tracing the whorls of his ear. Fireflies, pies and Summerside… sounded like a lovely place, for sure. But he was just talking silly. Then he curled up on his side, his mouth inches from her belly button, his live weight arm slung back around her waist. His other arm covered her bare knees as he used her for his very own pillow. "Edward…" she whimpered, the silk slide of his hair and rasp of his cheek, sensory overload for her poor thighs.

And then he really _was_ asleep, his chest rising and falling in deep rhythmic breaths, painting her lap with warm puffs of air that somehow turned into tingling, toe-curling stomach flips that made her breath speed up, even as his slowed down. What she wouldn't give for a pad of paper, she thought, hell, even a clean napkin would do at this point. She ached to draw him, even though she was having trouble thinking of much past the needy pulse between her legs.

Edward was unaware of her struggle, caught in a dream and a memory so entwined that he'd be hard pressed to tell which was which when he thought of it later.

* * *

_"Fate knows no distinction between tragedy and a happily ever after," Dr. Shan said with a shrug and drained his glass. The ice clinked as he set it back on the bar._

_"So you're saying that no one… none of us have free will in life? That everything is predetermined? I don't know if I can believe that." Edward refilled the doctor's glass and filled one for himself. "I always thought that the decisions we made shaped our own future."_

_"Certainly! Certainly they do. The best way to predict the future is to create it, of course. But I believe fate has a way of …recalculating."_

_"What do you mean?" Edward leaned forward._

_"A time traveler could go back and change something… an event, let's say a tragedy, purely for dramatic purposes. You know, tell your wife to take a left instead of a right so that eighteen wheeler won't hit her car head on."_

_Edward nodded. "Time traveler? I guess this is hypothetical, too, huh."_

_"Think of fate like your GPS system," Shan smiled slowly, up to the challenge. "Do you have one of those?"_

_Edward shook his head. "Nah, I pretty much stay put around here." His phone beeped at him from the wine glasses. He smiled as he snatched it up, tapping a few times on the screen._

_"Ah, you have an admirer." Shan craned his neck at the little screen, unabashedly curious. "I can read you like a book already, my friend. You have a very expressive face."_

_"My girlfriend," he laughed, not caring in the slightest what kind of dopey, shit-eating grin was on his face. "She's bringing me cookies."_

_Dr. Shan's eyes softened. "My wife Tina is a chef. I suppose she figured it was the only way to shut me up long enough to get a word in." He laughed._

_They were silent for a moment before Edward prompted the conversation back to where it'd been._

_"My dad has one of those GPS systems in his car, back in Chicago."_

_"Yes! Yes, handy things they are, certainly. What a marvelous invention. You plug in starting and ending points and the system takes care of the in-between. Fate is like that… fate determines the starting point… when you come into the world, for instance."_

_Edward pictured a hooded God-like figure handing out tiny GPS systems to all the newborn babies of the world. "And the ending point is when you die?" Edward sipped his scotch._

_"Oh, I don't know. Death is one of many destinations in life, I suppose. The final destination."_

_"Good movie," Edward grinned._

_Shan looked at him shrewdly. "And true, if you take the Hollywood horror part out of it. The GPS always chooses the path of least resistance… the easiest or fastest way to reach a destination."_

_"I'm with you," Edward nodded, sliding a hand through his hair. The conversation was getting a bit eerie to tell the truth; even if that wasn't something he was ready to admit._

_"So lets say you're following the directions of the GPS, and you come to a crossroads. The GPS says to turn right, but the road's blocked. There's an obstacle in your path of least resistance."_

_"Okay…"_

_"So you turn left instead, you challenge the GPS… you disobey the directions. But that doesn't matter right? It's just a machine. All it does is repeat, 'recalculating… recalculating'… showing you where to go until you're back on the right path. And there may be many paths to the same destination."_

_"But everyone's destination is unique, right? Their own personal GPS of fate." Edward leaned against the bar, restless, agitated for reasons he couldn't explain._

_"Your GPS knows all possible paths to the destination, even of you don't. That's why you have it in your car. If you get off track, it won't rest until you've been… recalculated."_

_Edward threw back his scotch, trying desperately to hold on to the scent of Bella in his nose… the sensation of fingers slipping through his hair. He didn't know why that would be happening here in the bar when she was at home baking cookies but it didn't feel… wrong. He wasn't about to question it, though. It was calming._

_Shan continued. "A time traveler, just by being there, is an obstacle in fate's path. He might very well avert some catastrophic event for a time, but fate will recalculate, if you will, and won't rest until the affected people are back on their intended route."_

_Edward stared, unnerved. "So you're saying that even if all the great tragedies of the world could be prevented, fate would find a way to adjust and come at it from another direction? Jesus, that's utterly depressing Dr. Shan, I gotta say."_

_"Why do you automatically assume fate is out to get you?" Shan laughed, delighted to invoke such a passionate reaction. "Like I said before, fate knows no distinction between tragedy and a happily ever after. It's just a destination. _Your_ destination."_

_"But what if fate were wrong in the first place?" Edward said heatedly. "What if a time traveler is fate's way of recalculating? Getting people back on their path. Fixing something that went wrong before." His head flopped down in his hands. Why was this bothering him so much? "I don't know."_

_"Of course, that's certainly possible," Dr. Shan said quietly with an enigmatic smile. "Because anything is possible. I think you're at Jasper's now, though. The car has stopped. It's time to wake up, Edward."_

* * *

Bella was slumped beside Edward, her hand still in his hair when he stiffened. She woke immediately to his green eyes blinking up at her owlishly. He gasped and then laughed, seemingly elated.

"I'm here," he said, delighted.

"You're here," she echoed, confused.

He sat up and planted a quick kiss on her surprised lips. "Bella, what if my destination isn't a time or a place… but a person?" he whispered, grazing her cheek with his finger. He moved quickly after that, pulling her with him to scramble out of the car. "Come on, Firefly. I need to make a phone call."

* * *

**That's quite a revelation! Any guesses as to who Edward wants to call? ;)**

**Thanks to my sweetie Lettersie17 for suggesting mint chocolate chip for Edward. He's very appreciative.**

******Love you all, so much! Thank you for reading :)**


	22. The Seelie Queen's Charge

**Hey guys :) Another Friday... thanks for sticking with me.**

**Faireyfan, susayq and les16 help keep me sharp. Thank you girls. **

* * *

It was just about suppertime, though the sun was still high over the dogwoods in the front yard of Jasper's cottage-style house. It was damn hot, the temperature hovering in the nineties, unwilling to drop until the sun was well on it's way down; and even then it resisted, dragging its feet, degree by slow degree until it settled somewhere in the low eighties before dawn. But Bella loved the summer, in spite of the heat. In the summer, the days stretched on and on… it didn't really get dark until around nine o'clock. That was her favorite part. When the night came alive, bursting with mystery and sounds- the comforting chirp of crickets, the rasp of the katydids and the wind through the leaves, and another quieter but rich and resonant layer… the crash of the ocean. Back at home, she'd get in trouble with her mom for opening her window while the air conditioning was running but she just couldn't resist. The breeze blew through the screen, the green smell of cut grass, and she'd think of her father.

A few years after Charlie was killed Bella tried once to explain, but Renee never saw things the way she did, how a smell could have a color, or the way sound could bring a landscape to life in her imagination. But her mom's lack of creativity never bothered Bella too much. She felt sorry for her, but to tell the truth, if she thought about it at all; she missed the safety net of her dad, and how he had always been of her world. When Renee would steer the conversation toward practical things, like schedules for after school activities, or how they all needed to turn the lights off when leaving a room to conserve energy, her dad would pull her into his lap and ask about the fairies under her bed.

"_Do they talk to you?"_

"_Of course they don't, Dad. I don't know their language."_

"_Well then how-"_

"_We play that game where there's no words and you do signals with your hands."_

"_Charades?"_

"_Yeah, yeah- that… how do you say that?" she asked, in her soft kindergarten voice. "Shuur-aides?_

"_You should draw them, Starfish. Draw them from their shiny crowns all the way to their tiny little shoes."_

"_Daddy. Only the Queen wears a crown."_

"_See? This is why I need you. Draw them all so I can see too."_

When she was eight, she'd asked her dad why he was a policeman instead of an artist. There wasn't a day that passed that Bella didn't wish with all her heart that she could draw as well as her daddy. Why would he waste it? Why would he want to wear the same old blue uniform everyday when there were so many colors in the rainbow to choose from?

They'd sat in the swing on the front porch that afternoon, sipping lemonade from her lemonade stand. She'd saved the red paper umbrella just for him, the only red one in the package. Red for the peppermints he always carried in his pocket for her.

"_Well," he said thoughtfully, "I've been charged by the Seelie Queen herself, to protect those she loves. That means you, Starfish."_

"_Like a Warrior Fairy or a Knight?" She was impressed._

"_Pretty much."_

_Bella ran a finger over a seam in his uniform. "You don't look like a Fairy Knight," she said slyly._

"_I can hardly call attention to myself, now can I? Besides, my magic is inside. You might not see it, but it's always there." He pulled the color pencil out of her long brown hair, smiling wide as it tumbled down. "You and me, Bella, we're like this pencil," he whispered, holding it up between them._

"_We are?" she whispered back, entranced._

_He tapped the bright blue lead. "What's important is what's inside of you."_

_She nodded, her eyes big and full of stars, full of her daddy._

_He drew a thin line on the wooden seat beneath them. "What you do will always leave a mark. Good or bad. It's up to you to decide what kind of marks you leave… on people, places… anything." He took her finger and rubbed it against the point of the pencil, dull from being used. "This pencil needs sharpening now, see? It will hurt though, it always hurts a bit to be sharpened, but it's something that has to happen for you to become the best you can be. You'll come out better, sharper, ready to take on the world."_

"_Have I been sharpened?"_

"_You have," he said gently. "A little. We all get sharpened more and more as we get older."_

"_I didn't feel it," she said, scrunching her freckled nose._

"_I won't always be here to be your knight, Starfish. But there'll be others to take up the charge of the Seelie Queen from the Realm of UnderBed."_

"_They've moved to the rose garden," she reported in a serious whisper._

_He frowned but his mustache twitched. "Then I'll be extra careful when I cut the grass."_

_And then Charlie was gone a month later. Renee never did understand why her youngest daughter would cry, standing with her nose plastered to the picture window when the neighbor boy would cut the grass. Bella had watched him like a hawk, especially when he was close to the roses._

Bella shrugged off the memories. It was hard to predict where her mind went sometimes. The waves of heat rose and shimmered off the driveway, and she gave herself about five minutes before she was sweating like a pig. There was an elastic ponytail holder she tried to talk herself into digging out of her backpack but it didn't work; minimal movement in this kind of heat was paramount. Instead, she merely readjusted the straps on her shoulders and watched Edward out of the corner of her eye.

"Should I… go on in?" she called to him across the yard. Rosie and Emmett had already disappeared inside the house.

"Huh? Oh. No, just… hold on." He looked a little wild around the eyes, lost, full of energy with nowhere to put it. He ran his hand through his hair and paced in a tight circle.

Edward needed more sleep, she thought. Maybe he was still dreaming. One of those waking dreams… more lucid than actual sleepwalking but still… He was acting strange at any rate. But then, how well did she really know him? _She_ might feel like he was the missing piece to _her_ puzzle but maybe that was pure attraction, plain and simple. It's just that… she felt so uncommonly familiar with Edward. There was no awkwardness really; he treated her like he'd known her forever. And yet the familiar was zinged with sparks, anticipation, _magic_. Was that what it was like when you found The One? Or was Edward just that smooth?

She shook her head.

Love at first sight, or soul mates or destiny was all well and good for movies or romance novels… but Bella was still a product of her mother. She'd become way too practical to think that could happen for _real_.

Well, she _wanted_ to believe but sooner or later he'd realize who she really was.

A shy little artist girl that didn't have any sort of experience with anything. Or anybody. Anywhere. Her reading meant that she had an incredible amount of knowledge about lots of different things. But it was all knowledge without context.

She'd made up that fairy world when she was five and had drawn every single inch of it like it really existed. Pretending seemed to be a special talent of hers. And humoring his little girl was something her dad had been prone to do. She couldn't expect Edward to do the same.

As she watched Edward curiously he pulled one of those new, flat phones out of his pocket. Her eyes grew big as she shamelessly stared. Wow. Her stepdad Phil had one of those; a Treo, she remembered. They were brand new… and totally expensive. One of the perks of being a high profile athlete, Phil had said.

Edward stared at his flat phone for about two seconds and then grimaced, shoving it back in his pocket. Maybe it was broken. Bella hadn't seen one of those tiny keyboards, there on the bottom. It was strange… she could see that it was all screen, even though it'd been turned off. How in the world would a phone work without any buttons to push? There must be a sliding panel with the keyboard, somewhere. She hated to think that it might have been damaged during the fight last night. Maybe that was why he seemed upset.

"Come on inside," she said. "It's hot."

He nodded and gave a noticeable full body shiver. The image of a Labrador Retriever shaking water out of its fur came to mind and a giggle bubbled up inside her chest. She would adopt Edward in a heartbeat.

Smiling, she turned away toward the house and he wheeled to follow her.

* * *

University of Florida team trainer Jasper Whitlock was obviously irritated when Bella and Edward walked through the foyer and into the heart of the little house. It was small but cozy, and made the most of its space. There was one of those huge TVs over the fireplace, and a basket of knitting sitting on the floor by the recliner. Its owner matched the house, Bella decided. Lanky but built, and comfortable in his casualness.

"Use the damn crutches, Emmett," Jasper growled. "We got more at stake here than your pride, you get me? We're leaving in five to get you on the table so we can see what's going on. Now, are you in pain or can you stand it?"

"I'm fine."

"Such a fucking hero," Jasper muttered, before casting a sheepish smile at Bella. "Sorry."

"S'alright," Bella smiled brightly.

Emmett rubbed his face tiredly and leaned on a crutch. "This is Bella, Jas. Rose's little sister."

"It's a pleasure," he nodded at Bella, not batting an eye at the bruises on her face. "Jasper Whitlock, at your service. Y'all make yourselves at home while I go put the million dollar man back together, alright?" Jasper said 'alright' like it had a W instead of an L. _Aww-right._ "Edward, always good to see you, man. How you been?" They clasped hands.

"Fine." He tilted his head at Em. "Will he be okay?" Edward swallowed his guilt at the knowledge that Em's knee was damaged because of him. Especially the guilt from knowing that he'd gladly sacrifice both of Emmett's knees if it would save Bella an ounce of that pain.

"Oh yeah. He'll be good as new," Jasper grinned, slapping Emmett on the back. "Right, big guy?"

"You're the boss," Em answered with a roll of his eyes.

"Let's go, babe," Jasper called down a hallway that seemed to house a thousand framed photographs of people, places and things. "I'll drop you girls off at the Admin building," he said loudly before he turned back to Bella. "My wife Alice works in admissions for the university. She's going to get your sister fixed right up, okay? So don't worry 'bout a thing."

Bella just nodded, chewing her lip, attempting to keep the surprise off her face. How could she worry about something she knew nothing about? All this was news to her.

Jasper waited a beat for her response and then turned back to Emmett. The silence felt heavy.

Edward nudged her shoulder with his. "You okay?"

She mumbled an affirmative, looking anywhere but at him. She felt exposed suddenly; raw… this boy acting like her very own emotional barometer was more than a little unsettling. So what if her sister didn't like her, Bella told herself. Lots of sisters didn't get along. But to have Rosie's indifference broadcasted embarrassed her on levels that were so primal she had no idea how to shut it away.

Rosie and Alice appeared in the hallway, deep in conversation as they walked toward the group. Alice's arm was slung around Rosie's shoulders and she hugged her a final time before they reached the doorway. Bella clenched her hands at the irrational surge of jealousy that crawled up her spine.

She gave Alice a tight smile when Jasper introduced them. "It's nice to meet you Alice. Thanks for having us. I know it's so last minute-"

"Oh, hush," Alice laughed, squeezing her tightly. "Sorry! I'm a hugger," she admitted, not sounding sorry about it at all. She leaned back, her eyes drifting over Bella's face. "This won't last long," she murmured, touching the bruise on her cheek lightly. "You were so lucky these strong handsome boys showed up when they did." She held Edward's eyes as she leaned over to whisper loudly in Bella's ear. "Edward's a great guy. He needs someone like you."

Alice drew back, eyes twinkling, satisfied with the pink edging across Bella's cheeks. "I just went to the store," she announced to everyone, "so the kitchen is stuffed full of food we'll never be able to eat all by ourselves. You all just get what you want, 'kay?"

As they gathered themselves to leave, Bella watched her sister touch Emmett tentatively on the arm in some sort of silent communication. He followed her out the door, docile as a puppy.

* * *

Bella made grilled cheese sandwiches in the kitchen and found strawberries in the refrigerator. As she worked, spreading butter on the bread, or slicing the stems off the strawberries, Edward couldn't seem to stop touching her. It wasn't sexual; it was as if he needed constant reassurance that she was still there.

His restlessness hadn't gone away, even after their quick supper, and he was agitated as he went through the cabinets in a frantic search for headache medicine. He nodded shortly when she asked him if he still needed to call someone.

"If your phone is broken you can use mine," she offered softly.

Edward squeezed his temples, scowling. "It's not broken. I just don't know his number." He flopped back on the couch and glared at the ceiling.

She smoothed the hair back from his forehead. "Your headache…?"

"It comes and goes," he said, punctuating his admission with a mournful sigh.

Bella frowned. The boy _definitely_ needed more sleep. "Why don't you look the number up? I think I saw a phone book in the-"

"He's not local… wait," he said in a gasp, turning to look at her, the answer slamming around and around his skull in an unstoppable loop. "I saw a computer." He sat up, wincing. "Hold on—do you have Google?"

"Do _I _have Google?"

"Yeah, no—I don't mean you _personally_… but Google exists, right?"

"Of course it exists!" She stared at him, half amused, half dismayed. A look that said she thought he was completely nutso.

He sat straight up and touched her again, a quick, shocking graze of his lips against hers. At her small gasp something twisted in his eyes and he yanked her onto his lap. She came without complaint, resting her arms on his shoulders, while he cradled her head gently in his hands. The touch was tender, the look in his eyes anything but. She swallowed, suddenly heart-stoppingly nervous, elated, all hot and bothered at the connection between them… the list of the emotions he invoked in her went on and on. His fingers brushed her lips, his smile a slow tease.

"I want to kiss you again," he said in a hoarse whisper. It wasn't a request. A demand.

She nodded dumbly and he laughed low, with all the assurance of a man who'd always gotten his way.

_Have mercy._

He curved his hand around her neck and brought her mouth to his, catching her lower lip between his teeth in a playful bite, soothing with his tongue. She moaned and he gripped her tighter, reason leaving him as he kissed her with abandon.

But after a few minutes, he brought them both down slowly, the need to make contact with Dr. Shan fast consuming him. Crushing her to his chest, they smiled together and exchanged light kisses, happiness almost a tangible thing between them.

Her heart ached in an inexplicable way, _beautiful_, she thought, as she ran her palm over his jaw roughened with stubble.

"Bella," he sighed contentedly. He tucked her back into her seat.

And then he was off the couch in a flash. "No- stay right there," he said, walking backward before he turned down the hall. "I'll be back in a sec."

Bella settled back on the couch after he disappeared, touching her lips with a sigh. There was something crazy going on. There just had to be. Edward, the perfect guy, knight in shining armor, incredible kisser… was too good to be true.

As she let her head fall back on the cushion, her arms fell to the sides… and brushed up against something cool and hard. She looked down and saw Edward's little flat phone he'd had outside. It must have fallen out of his pocket. He'd probably need it; especially if he found the number he was looking for. Sitting up on the edge of the couch, she weighed it in her hand, turned it over, looking for the little slidey panel that hid the keyboard like Phil's Treo. Where was it? She glanced toward the hallway. Edward wouldn't know if she looked. He probably wouldn't have cared either… what was a phone compared to having someone's tongue in your mouth? Besides, she wasn't going to snoop; she just wanted to see if it was a Nokia or a Samsung or whatever. She was due for an upgrade and this one was way cool.

It was confusing though, because there wasn't anything to push except that big button on the front. She had a vague, giggly notion that pushing the big button would set off a crazy turn of events, and things would pop out of Edward's phone like something from Inspector Gadget. Maybe he had a nail file in there... maybe if she pushed the button a certain way, it'd file her nails for her!

She gave a quick smile when the screen lit up brightly, a smile that melted away as her jaw fell.

Bella inhaled sharply, and dropped the phone on the floor as if it had burned her hands. It landed face up, winking off to black after a few seconds. Tentatively, she leaned down and pushed the button one more time to make sure she wasn't crazy.

* * *

Edward stared at a younger Dr. Shan on the Stanford website, courtesy of Google, and wracked his brain for a way to make Shan believe this convoluted bullshit he was pushing. He was more than aware that he sounded like a certifiable crackpot, but what else was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to go but forward. And boy, wasn't that a funny fucking statement coming from him.

Dr. Shan's voice crackled over the phone. Disbelief. Amazement. Suspicion.

"Tell me again how you accomplished this?"

"I, uh, fell asleep thinking of… of Bella and this place we were both at five years ago, and— except we didn't know each other then, _before_… and then something happened. Something horrible and traumatic and wrong. It was …literally a life changing event for lots of people, not just her. A lot of people." Edward drew in a deep breath and wanted to beat his head against the wall. Rambling idiot. Damn, he was fucking this up, he just knew it.

"You're not on any sort of hallucinogen are you?"

"God, no. Look, I know I'm not making too much sense but I've been a little short on sleep."

"And you mentioned before… you've already changed things?" Dr. Shan sounded distracted, papers were shuffling in the background. He was probably looking up the number for the Gainesville loony bin.

"Well, yeah. That terrible thing, last night… do you want me to just tell you-"

"No, no, absolutely not. The less details the better."

"Okay," Edward murmured, barely keeping his laughter in. He was just like Marty McFly in Back To The Future, staring at wild haired Doc Brown as he tore his letter to shreds, screaming that no one should know too many details about the future. "No details, right. Um… so yeah, I stopped it."

"Mr. Cullen…"

"Edward. You call me Edward."

"Edward. Before… you said you knew this girl. After the tragedy happened."

"Yes. Four or five years after. In uh, 2008 and 9." Pain hit him unexpectedly, square in the chest. _Firefly._

"You need to leave there, Edward. Immediately."

"What?" He sprang up out of the computer chair. "Why? I can't! No, look- we just need to talk about the GPS thing and make sure that everyone's back on the right track. And I need to know if you think I'll stay here or if I'll go back, cause I really would like some fucking sleep without having to worry about waking up somewhere else." He paced the room, back and forth, his blank eyes scanning the books on Jasper's shelves absently. In his mind though, he was really seeing Bella's bright red towel fluttering uselessly in the winds of the coming storm while some lady in a uniform talked about next of kin. He couldn't go back there. He couldn't. He was clinging to this 2004 with everything he had. But what if it was out of his control?

"There's something else," he said a little desperately. "Something worse than the tragedy last night. But see, I don't know if in preventing the assault, I prevented her drowning. I need you Dr. Shan, _please_. I need you to tell me what to do."

"Hold for a minute." Dr. Shan was all business now, with a twinge of excitement. "I'm writing this down in my notebook."

"Yes!" Edward crowed. "It's red, isn't it?"

"No. Blue."

"Oh." Edward sighed.

"Ha! Just kidding!" Shan cackled. "It's red. But that was probably a lucky guess on your part, yes?"

Right now it was a toss-up as to whether Edward would laugh hysterically or go on an embarrassing crying jag. Emotion was already clawing its way out of him, still trying to decide which road to take.

"Your wife!" He almost shouted into the phone. "Your wife is named Tina, and she's a chef! You showed me her picture—she's a redhead… with blue eyes!" Edward grinned in triumph.

"Edward…"

Oh shit. His heart sank. Shan was going to say he wasn't married, Edward could feel it.

"I'm not married."

Well, at least he sounded apologetic about it. "You're not kidding are you?"

"No, not this time."

Edward was silent. There was nothing else to say. He was so tired, and this pointless conversation had done him in. All he wanted was to curl up beside Bella and sleep for days.

"But I still think we should meet," Dr. Shan said firmly. More notebook scratching.

"Seriously?" Edward whispered.

"I'll choose the place. Somewhere in the middle… Colorado perhaps? I'll call you back with specifications."

"Sure," he said, more strongly this time. "I— thank you, Dr. Shan… for giving me a chance."

"Oh, you're not out of the woods yet, Edward," Dr. Shan remarked lightly. "But we'll get you the help you need."

That ominous statement went largely unnoticed, because Edward saw a Bella-shaped shadow lurking in the doorway. "Damn it," he groaned, his hand going to his empty pocket. His iPhone… It looked like it was put-up or shut up time, as Mrs. Cope would say, and while he knew he was going to have to tell her the truth at some point, he was not even close to being ready. She wasn't ready. He was going to lose her before he'd even begun.

She stared at him from the doorway, afraid, knowledge in her eyes of something she didn't know how to understand.

"Bella." He could hardly breathe. An avalanche of loneliness came crashing into him with all the violence of a freight train. How was he supposed to tell her? Where were the rules?

"What did you hear?" he asked wearily. He didn't even know what damage control needed to be done. This was bad… very, very bad.

Bella nodded, eyes wide. She clutched the iPhone to her chest. "Enough."

* * *

**I know! I can't believe I left it there either!**

**And while I would love to claim Charlie's 'a pencil is like your life' examples, I must admit that I read those on one of those random chain forwarded emails my mom always sends me. *embarrassed laugh***

**I want to encourage you to make a donation, big or small, to Fandom for Sexual Assault Awareness by the deadline, June 15th. In return for your support you'll receive a lovely compilation of outtakes, one-shots and more from 155 of your favorite authors! An outtake from Firefly in Summer will be tucked away in there, somewhere. Link is in my profile. Or you can Google It, like Edward.**

**I'm not the best at review replies and I apologize. But come find me on twitter, (primarycolors1) or the Firefly thread on Twilighted. Link is on my profile. I'd love to see you!**


	23. How to Begin Part Deux

**In case you don't A/N's at the bottom, I have to take next week off. :( I'm sorry! I'll be out of town. But you can count on me the Friday after that.**

**Love and hugs to Faireyfan for being wonderful and for making me feel special, and to les16, who gives so much more than I could ever give her in return. And to susayq, who still loves me, even though I start every email with "Sorry...!" LOL**

**Thank you guys for reading and for all your lovely reviews. :)**

* * *

"Edward?"

"Yes," he answered, keeping his eyes on the girl in the doorway. His hand tightened on the phone.

"I said I'll give you a call back when I have more information," Shan's voice came over the line. "Is that all right?"

"That's fine," Edward murmured. He clicked the off button, the chime sounding so loud in the little room. Thank God for chairs, he thought, because there was no way he would've been able to stay standing right now.

"So." He pulled his gaze away from Bella and laid his old Nokia carefully on Jasper's desk. The thing was littered with the mundane… a grocery list, last month's power bill, a birthday card from someone's mom. He rubbed absently across his chest, the t-shirt bunching and sliding with his hand. His skin felt jittery, heart pounding double-time, he felt as if he might break apart any minute. There wasn't ever really a plan for how to tell her, or whether he should tell her at all. And it wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it, he had… but there were no easy answers, and far too many questions.

"Let's go sit back on the couch," he heard himself say, and he forced himself up, told his feet one step at a time. Walking back down the hallway was a slow motion dive underwater. There was a part of him that felt weightless, but the pressure was threatening to squeeze the life right out of him.

They sat together on the same couch where, minutes ago, he'd had her moaning into his mouth. He pushed that out of his mind as he watched her curl up among the cushions. He hated the wariness she'd wrapped around herself. At least she let him tug her hand away from her knee and hold it, sandwiched between his own.

Sink or swim time, he thought. Time for the truth, at least some version of it, even if it made her look at him differently… and really, if that was all that happened after he dropped this bomb, then he was getting off light. He was convinced now, on some base level that he couldn't stay here with her. Everything about being here felt wrong, just as being with Bella felt right. It wasn't just the lack of sleep; he'd been without sleep before. It was more… fundamental than that. It was the distinct feeling that his time was running out.

_Choice, not chance determines destiny._

Fate was forcing his hand with this choice, these crossroads, placing this upcoming conversation front and center. He needed to man the fuck up and convince the woman he loved that their futures were irrevocably linked. Their lengthy, _extended_ futures, because he was not about to experience her death a second time. No way in hell.

"I can see you're thinking very hard," Bella said dryly. "Trying to figure out what to tell me?"

Edward played with her fingers. "Have you ever wondered… how, I mean, _why_ this is so easy between us?"

"Maybe," she whispered.

"There's a reason for that." He leaned over toward her, pressing his forehead against her knee, her hand still clutched in his. "Fuck, what am I doing?" he moaned.

"Edward. You're scaring me." Her face was ashen as she pushed him away, needing to see his face.

"Okay. Just… let's just talk around it for a minute. What are you thinking?" He rubbed his face vigorously, hiding his eyes. "Tell me what you're thinking and then we'll go from there."

Her eyes flashed and she moved to get up. "I can't believe that you're the one with answers and you want me to talk. That's the biggest load of-"

"Stop," he pleaded, as he slid off the couch and kneeled between her legs. "Just stop. Tell me what you see." He pulled the phone from her hand and navigated the screen. The picture that she'd seen before bounced up, glowing, the only light in the room of a house shadowed in twilight.

"You," she muttered as she stared, "it's you and you have more hair on your face. I can't tell where you are. A party? A bar?" Her eyes narrowed, studying the screen. "Your hair is shorter… here." She touched his neck lightly, moving to the hair above his ears.

When she was quiet for more than a minute he huffed. "And?"

"And what? Are you trying to tell me I've had amnesia or something, that this is me, even though I know it's not?"

"Why don't you think it's you?"

"I don't know. Little things, I guess. I don't have a shirt like that. My hair has never been that light, even in the summertime. And her nose is just slightly different…" she squinted at the phone, not seeing the pain that flashed over Edward's face.

"You're trembling," he whispered, rubbing her knees.

"She looks just like me, though, doesn't she?" Her eyes were full of tears when she finally looked up from the screen. "She's like… she's like my twin or something. Oh God."

"Bella," he leaned toward her and grabbed her hand.

"Oh God, she's my long-lost identical twin sister and you love her except… something happened to her."

"Bella, no…"

"Something happened to her and that was why you stopped kissing me last night, wasn't it… because you were pretending I was her and then when you realized I wasn't you stopped…" Her tears splashed on his hand.

The pain in her voice twisted a knife deep in his chest, until she absolutely wailed that there was no way in hell she was going on Jerry Springer.

"Wait, what?" He couldn't help but laugh.

Oh Hell. She was furious, red-eyed and at a complete loss for words.

"God, Bella… fuck, don't get mad. Look, I'd rather laugh than cry, alright? However fucked up this situation is about to get don't ever doubt that everything I've ever done in my life since I met you was with idea that we would be together, always. It's always been you. God, please believe me, it could only ever be you."

She stared at him. "That was lovely, Edward," she said earnestly, in a softer voice, and patted his hand. "I could almost believe that if we'd known each other more than a day."

He scrambled back beside her on the couch and leaned over her, the last of the sun catching him in the face, the flare of summer sea green catching her mid-breath. "You're wrong about that, Bella," he whispered fiercely. "I _know_ you. I know what you look like when you wake up in the morning, how you dump three Splendas in your coffee but will only admit to two. When you paint you're messy as hell and you stick your tongue out when you do the hard parts. You've never had chocolate _anything_ for breakfast but you have no problem with eating a fucking pecan pie as soon as you roll out of bed."

She vaulted up off the cushion with a snort of disbelief, temper sparking off her even as she broke inside. Moving backwards slowly, she put even more distance between them.

"Who have you been talking to?" she demanded lowly, crossing her arms around herself. The ache that was growing, curling in her chest, took her breath away. "Rosie's playing a joke on me, isn't she? I—I really don't know how you managed the picture… Photoshop or something I guess, I should have thought—I should have thought… Photoshop," she nodded, fully aware that she was babbling like an idiot but unable to stop herself. Pain and betrayal were trickling down, settling ugly and dark in the pit of her stomach, and she was sick, _sick_ that she'd let him kiss her, press his body against hers in bed and it was all a _joke?_ "But the question is why? Why would you do this to me?"

The house had descended into darkness. Now that the sun was almost gone, it fell to the distant light from the kitchen to accent the worry and frustration on her face. Edward hesitated, knowing the words he needed to say, _should_ say. But knowing and doing were worlds apart right about now.

"I haven't _done_ anything to you," he said as he took a step toward her.

She immediately put out her hands. "Don't touch me right now, Edward. Sorry, but… I just can't."

He retreated until his back hit the side of the couch. His hands went from being crossed over his chest, to sliding through his hair, until finally settling deep in his jeans pockets.

"You're not going to believe me," he muttered. "I know you're not."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Just say it." Her patience was thin.

"I'm… uh," he squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck it, _fine_, I'm just going to say it."

_Here goes nothing…_

"Bella… I'm from the Future." He let out a long slow breath and crossed his arms back over his chest. Only then did he open his eyes.

It was impossible to read her. "Who were you talking to back there?" she asked, nodding in the direction of the library.

"Oh," he said, surprised. "That was a friend of mine, Dr. Shan."

Bella hadn't lost her hearing. She'd clearly heard what Edward said but was quite pointedly ignoring it. Was this what he'd been talking about when he said he was afraid she'd think he was crazy?

"I see… is that what they're calling them these days? Your friend?" She sighed, dejected. "So… you have mental… issues?" Leave it to her to fall for the cute, delusional boy at the party. Awesome.

His fists clenched. "No. I don't," his voice was haunted, but very, very certain.

Of course, nobody ever thought _they_ were the ones that had mental problems.

"You told me you'd lost someone back in my sister's apartment. Is it… her? That girl in the picture?

"Yes," he said tightly.

"Edward. You told me you'd tell me everything."

"And you told _me_ that you'd never think I was crazy."

"I don't," she said, not a little indignant.

He glared at her. "Right," he said slowly.

"Okay, maybe a _little_. But at least I'm not freaking out." She moved to sit in the recliner and clicked on the lamp. Warm light flooded the room, just enough to make the setting cozy and intimate. Ripe for a good story, she thought, because that's all it would be. There'd be a fight if she tried to leave, so she'd listen now and extricate herself later. Maybe she'd head on up to Savannah, try to get into her dorm a few weeks early. Forget Edward and how she almost fell in love in twenty-four hours.

"Fine."

"So talk. You first," she smiled sweetly. "Go."

Edward settled back against the couch, appraising her, as if revising his game plan in the final seconds of the fourth quarter. When they'd been on the beach, at the bar, for dinner at Mrs. Cope's, and she'd dropped tiny morsels of information about her life here and there; he'd had no idea that he'd be using them later like desperate little arrows to poke holes in her defenses.

"The girl in the picture is you, Bella, almost four years from now." The blue light from the phone lit up his face. "There's a time stamp on the picture… did you see that? July 28, 2008."

"I figured it was wrong," Bella half whispered. "I can never get my camera on the right date. Besides…" she shrugged a shoulder, "Photoshop."

He ignored that, and leaned forward. "Jake took that picture of us at the bar I own in a little town on the Gulf Coast. When that picture was taken… I'd known you nearly six months. And all I could think about was how to get past the friend thing so I could kiss you."

"We were friends?"

"Yeah. Neighbors, actually," a smile ghosted across his face.

Her nose wrinkled. "I lived next door to a bar?"

"Well, it's a _nice_ bar on the beach," he said as he folded his arms back across his chest. "It's a house, a huge house really, and Uncle Pete had the bottom made into a bar. I live upstairs."

"So I have a house on the beach? What… I must be renting then," she frowned.

"No, you owned it… but we never did talk about stuff like that. I found out later that your step dad bought it for you."

"Phil?" She shook her head. "No way. I just can't see that."

"You'd be surprised at what can happen in four years."

She was quiet for a while, then, "Well, what was I like? And if you wanted to kiss me and stuff…" she colored slightly, "I mean… six months? I've only known you for a day and look what we've…" she trailed off, uncomfortable.

"You made the friend rule," he smiled faintly. "Not me."

"I wonder why?" she mused.

"Before…" he cleared his throat. "God, this confuses even me, and I lived it." He sat up suddenly, restless. He needed to touch her, show himself with more than his eyes that she was safe, unharmed. "Any chance you'd come sit over here?"

She smiled apologetically, but shook her head.

"Okay, the 2009 I came from… where we lived next door to each other. The 2004 that came before that… I wasn't down there with you by the water last night." He swallowed thickly, hating his inability to say the words in a way that wouldn't hurt her.

Bella's smile slipped slightly, the color that had been present in her face only moments before, was gone.

"In that 2004, nobody was there to… help you. No one was there to save your sister. The things that happened to you that night affected the rest of your life," he said gently.

"No," she said sharply. "I mean, I'm glad you were there last night, don't get me wrong, but I was about to scream my head off. And my dad, my dad taught me all these self-defense moves. I was only eight but I kept going to all the classes after he was gone."

"It wasn't your fault, Bella. There were too many of them."

"I'm tired of talking about this," she waved him off and sprang out of the chair. She wanted out of the room, out of the conversation, but she didn't yet know Alice's sleeping arrangements and was loathe to go poking around in bedrooms. So she stayed, ignoring him, and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. She was also curiously hesitant to leave Edward himself. But that was something she'd examine later. Much later.

She stopped in front of the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard, looking past her own pensive reflection to watch the patient dance of the fireflies.

When Edward came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, her head told her to push him away, that whatever he was spouting was illogical, impossible, stuff only Steven Spielberg would be interested in hearing. But her traitorous body leaned back into his hold and her heart… well, her heart had already abandoned her in favor of this green-eyed stranger, who was yet so familiar to her that she suspected she just might follow wherever he led.

"I don't know how to believe you, Edward." Her breath fogged the glass door ever so slightly. She closed her eyes when he brushed the shell of her ear with his mouth. Why did he affect her so? The press of him at her back, even the way he smelled was home, only it was no home she'd ever known. You are turquoise and gold, she thought, a tide pool sunning itself before the afternoon storm rolls in to call you back to the ocean.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"You hate tomatoes but if I cut them up and add onions and cilantro you'll fight me for it," he began, his voice tangled with emotion. "You have peppermints in every room of your house. When you're bored you doodle mermaids and fairies." He pulled the neck of her shirt away so he could kiss her shoulder. "And you'll literally draw on anything," he whispered, his lips curving against her skin. "You play Dave Matthews when you paint the ocean." He nuzzled her neck, moving back up to her ear. "And your favorite morning involved your father and pancakes on the ceiling."

Her heart kicked into high gear. She moved to turn around in his arms but he held her tight.

"Please. Bella, please," he pleaded into her neck, his voice suddenly heavy with grief. "I can't lose you a second time."

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here."

* * *

**Okay! So, everyone ready for a road trip? ;)**

**Thank you guys SO MUCH, I've made it to the 2nd round of the Avant Garde Awards in the category of Best Novice Author. (I'm still happy that people are reading!)**

**There are some fun/interesting/make-your-head-swim theories over on the Twilighted thread. :) **

**I'll miss y'all next week!**


	24. You are Her

**Thank you for being so patient! I missed y'all last week. More at the bottom...**

* * *

Alice brought a stack of towels into the room before sitting on the bed next to Bella.

"This is okay isn't it?" she asked softly, glancing quickly at Rose. "I mean, you guys can switch up if you want… I just couldn't tell what was happening, exactly."

"It's fine. Thanks," Bella said, losing her smile as she followed Alice's gaze. Rosie stood with her back to the room and stared out the window even though it was dark outside. Bella could clearly see her sister's face reflected in the glass; somewhere between lost, determined… devastated. She doubted Rosie realized her expressions were so exposed.

Or maybe she did. That would be just like her, to play up the drama to get attention. There, right on cue… one carefully staged sniff had Alice sliding off the bed and running to comfort Rosie in her time of need.

"Oh sugar, he'll be alright. It wasn't even a bad tear; you saw the x-ray. Just a little rehab and he'll be good as new, okay?" Alice was pure honey and sweetness, and for a moment even Bella felt the sunshine of her outlook. She just seemed so sure that everything would really work out. Bella wondered what Alice would think about Edward, but knew there was no way she could say anything.

Because she felt very protective suddenly. _She_ was the only one allowed to think he was crazy.

His Doctor Shan had called back a little while ago, inviting Edward to their annual Stanford Physics Retreat at a spa resort in Boulder, Colorado. In fact, Shan was there now; he'd been there the entire time. He'd had his office automatically forward his calls to his cell phone. Now there was a reserved room for Edward waiting expectantly for his arrival. Back at Jasper's house, Edward's eyes had stayed on Bella as he confirmed details on the phone, ending with, "Yes, thank you. We'll see you tomorrow. Right… goodbye."

"_We?"_ She'd asked a few seconds later, incredulous, even though a huge part of her would have pitched a fit at being left behind, no matter how insane the whole situation was.

He'd snapped the little phone closed, narrowing his eyes as if she were some sort of wild animal that needed to be tranked and put in the cargo hold for transportation.

"Bella," he'd said slowly, soothingly… "You have to come with me."

"Well, thanks for asking," she'd replied a bit petulantly and folded her arms, not quite understanding why she'd copped an attitude all of a sudden but feeling powerless to stop it. She'd felt as if she were being backed into a corner to tell the truth, and that made her want to lash out. But then she would look into Edward's face and the weight on his shoulders (perceived or real, she wasn't sure yet) seemed so tangible that she wanted to pull his tired body to hers and soothe him for days on end.

She had locked the strange and incredible things he'd said and known about her into a little box in her head, filed under _"Preposterous and Spooky Declarations, Unsettling and a Little Bit Creepy. To Be Examined at a Later Date."_ The Voice of Reason stood guard over this box, and The Voice listened to no one except itself.

But there was now a more subtle authority at work in Bella, a force that had always been exponentially more powerful than the logic in her head, no matter how she might try to ignore it. Her heart had felt the truth of Edward's words, and was hard at work spreading acceptance to the other parts of her body. Her head would have to be last, because that's just how these things worked. But in the end, strength of feeling would always win, because Bella's Voice of Reason had never, ever been any sort of competition for the love in her heart. It was simply the way she was wired.

Edward's heart had broken and mended itself in the space of about five seconds, as he'd watched the irritability flash across Bella's face. This was a Bella he knew. Not that his Bella back in Summerside was irritable very often, she wasn't… but that was how she responded when she was afraid, or undecided, or confused about what to do. She got flustered and cranky.

Her mood had turned on a dime though, her youth seeming so much more apparent than it had ever been before. He'd reached out for her hand. "Listen," he'd said, blowing out a quick breath. "It'll be a short trip… and you don't have to worry about expenses. I've got it covered."

"That's not what I-"

"I know. I know you feel like you don't know me. But you can trust me, Bella. I'll be a perfect gentleman."

"No- just shut up, okay? It's not about that. You—you can't just _assume_ that I'll go with you without even _asking_." She'd blinked at him furiously, the hurt unexpected across her face.

"You don't want to go?"

"Oh my God, you're impossible," she'd screeched.

Edward had given her a penetrating look and then grinned suddenly, having the strange sensation of coming across an old beloved sit-com, complete with the bickering couple, canned laughter and frequent breaks for leather recliner warehouse commercials. Cradling her face in his hands, he'd looked down at her fondly.

"Bella." He'd kissed her forehead, then her nose. "Will you please come on this trip with me?"

She'd frowned, pinching her lips together. Oh, he knew exactly how to get to her.

"Fine."

"So that's a yes?" His eyes had held an annoying twinkle.

"_Yes_," she'd sighed.

* * *

"Sweetie?" Alice touched her arm, snapping Bella out of her Edward fog. "You had a pretty fierce look on your face there."

"Sorry," she murmured, adding an apologetic smile. She'd always been that way. What was in her head was right there on her face. What did Edward see when he looked at her?

"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Giving her hand a squeeze, Alice made her way out of the room.

Bella drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her sister was still at the window. If she were lucky they'd both go to bed with a minimum of words. Making herself as soundless as possible, she picked up her backpack and glanced around for her shoes.

"Dad would have hated Royce," Rosie said to the dark window. She'd crossed her arms over her chest, hooking her hands around the back of her neck. "He would have seen right away that he was bad. He wouldn't have let me go out with him." Her voice was muffled in the crook of her elbow. "I would have fought him on it… maybe I would have snuck out to see him, I don't know. But I don't think what happened last night would have happened if Dad was still here."

She turned suddenly, pinning Bella with an accusing stare. "You knew. You never liked Royce. Why didn't you say something?"

"You're _blaming_ me?" Bella said, disbelieving. "When have you ever listened to me anyway? It wouldn't have done any good and you know it." She shoved her sandals in a side pocket and bit her tongue before she said something _really_ horrible. The last thing she wanted was a long drawn out fight with her sister.

"You stay in your own little world, Bella, you couldn't care less about anyone except yourself. It probably would've been the same if Dad had lived… all he needed was you anyway." Now she just sounded sad.

"Daddy loved you too," Bella sighed, grabbing her shampoo out of the bathroom. She kept her tone light, conscious of the tension slowly but surely filling the room. She just wanted to get away, away from her sister with her fiercely nurtured anger and keen distrust.

"Not like he did you," Rosie murmured, staring out the window again.

"Seriously? Seventeen years and you want to bring up some pychobabble about how you think Daddy loved me and not you? Well, that's just bullcrap Rosie and you know it." Bella glanced behind her and closed the door, suddenly aware of the listening ears in the rest of the house. "Besides, I could say the same about you and mom. She loves you more than me. I've known that for years and I just had to deal."

"You don't get it, Bella," Rosie hissed, blue eyes sparking as she crossed the room, blocking Bella's path to the dresser. "Dad loved you more than anyone, even Mom."

That made her pause. "How can that be true?" Bella said in a small voice. "I was just a kid… and she was his wife. It's totally different."

"She was jealous of you, _and_ jealous of him. She knows that even now, you love him more than her, and _she's_ the one still alive."

"This is ridiculous," Bella muttered. "Why on earth are we even talking about this? I just came in here to tell you that I was leaving and you dump all this on me. What does it matter, anyway? Mom is Mom. She's never going to change. Besides, I can't believe that Mom would care about who I love more. I can't see that even entering her mind."

"I always had to be so perfect," Rosie whispered. "My hair had to be brushed, I'd get in trouble if I got dirty… she gave me makeup when I was eleven, do you remember? She made me think I needed it. She never did that to you."

"She didn't care enough about me to give me makeup, Rosie. And I didn't try to put myself in her line of fire. She had you… I just flew under the radar. It was the way I wanted it."

"You're wrong, Sissy." Melancholy now, Rosie sagged on to the bed. "You just didn't want her. Or me. You didn't need anybody."

"I was only _eight_." Bella found herself rubbing a fist over her chest, as if she could simply brush away the years of hurt. "No one except Daddy ever understood me anyway." Her eyes blurred as she looked across the bedspread at her sister. "I was only eight."

"I don't think you should go with him. With Edward."

"Well, you're just all over the place tonight aren't you?" Bella huffed as she slipped off the bed and zipped her backpack.

"Bella, you don't even know who he is. It's one thing to have a one-night stand, but to run off with some guy, hop on a plane to God-knows-where?" Rosie was back to glaring, barely hiding the hurt and bitterness underneath. "It's just stupid."

Of course it was stupid. She had always been the stupid little sister, given to flights of fancy, never needing friends, ever content with books, pencils and paint and the curiosities under her bed. Bella's lower lip quivered, and she was so frustrated at the weakness that she bit down hard enough to draw blood. "I'm going," she whispered with a lift of her chin. "I've never met anyone like Edward."

"That's what they all say." A bitter laugh. "That's what I said, too. You're only seventeen, anyway."

"Almost eighteen," Bella countered, edging toward the door.

"I could stop you," Rosie said, following the stitching of the comforter with her finger. "You're still a minor."

Bella froze, her hand on the doorknob to freedom. "You won't though."

Her sister sighed, finger following the outline of her own hand-shaped bruise, instead of the cotton flowers she was sitting on.

"Rosie, I _need_ Edward. I need to see what this can be. It's like... I had no idea I was living with cloudy skies until I saw him."

"Okay," Rosie said softly from the bed.

"I'm just going to check on him. Make sure he's settled in. It's late… he's probably asleep anyway. I'll be back." Bella shifted on her feet, restless. She mentally willed her sister to at least look at her. "Sissy? You understand don't you? I need him."

Bella waited a few long seconds in silence then closed the door behind her.

"But you don't need anybody," Rosie whispered to an empty room.

* * *

"I knew you'd come."

"What?" Bella gasped, startled even though she knew he was in there. His voice was low and silky, part of the shadows themselves.

"You used to call this time between eleven o'clock and one your magic hours. That if you happened to be awake, you could whip out a whole painting before you got back in bed."

She stared at him, barely making out his features in the dark. He'd been given the hammock in the little glassed-in sunroom. It swayed back and forth as he moved over, crooking a finger at her. "Come here, little Firefly," he said, barely audible.

"I can't believe you're not asleep," she whispered, climbing in, giggling when all she accomplished was to lay sprawled across his chest, tangling her legs with his. Gingerly, she nuzzled her cheek over his heart, the warm thud under her ear as comforting as the endless crash of the waves.

He ran his hand languidly up and down her back. "You're not wearing a bra," he mused. "Shit, did I say that out loud?" he asked when she stiffened slightly. "Sorry. I'm too tired to try anything anyway."

"S'okay," she said softly, her nose full of cotton t-shirt and warm boy. "Edward?"

His response was more a hum that she felt rather than heard.

"You've said that before… why do you call me that?" His hand was heavy in her hair, and she thought that he might be asleep.

"Firefly," he murmured, his hand tightening ever so slightly on the crown of her head.

She shivered. Maybe it was feeling that word right under her ear, pushed together with the rasp of his voice as it floated in the night air that made the slow crawl of trepidation dance up her spine. "It's from before… isn't it?"

"Yes."

She waited for an explanation that never came, and then lifted her head, expecting to see his eyes closed. But he wasn't asleep. In fact, his entire expression was guarded. She went still, the peace she'd found from his presence now licked with dread. Another girl was one thing… but if what he'd said was true, then she was becoming jealous of _herself_.

"I know you said we were friends in… 2009. Was I really that different? What was I like? What were _we_ like?" _Tell me so I can be like her._

Her chin rested on his chest as she watched him, fear worming it's way through her insides. Why didn't he just go back to her, back to where he came from… the future? But she was not about to suggest that though, not in a million years, because as crazy as this whole thing had been, she didn't want him to leave. She wasn't ready. She'd just found him.

Edward said nothing right away, but simply enfolded her in the circle of his arms, tucking her even closer into the curve of his body. "What were we like…" he began softly, after a few minutes. "You were my best friend, even though there were lots of things that went unsaid between us… lots of secrets." His hand stroked down her side and lingered in the hollow where waist flared into hip. His fingers caressed the skin under her t-shirt, as she in turn, traced circles on his chest.

"We made fun of each other," he continued, "and we joked around a lot. And then sometimes we were serious. We watched the sunsets and you made pancakes. You were always making something," he laughed. "One time I made you soup and you liked it.

She felt him shrug and giggled. "I'm sure it was wonderful."

"And I talked you into chocolate for breakfast, did you know that? You acted so tough about it but you didn't last long. And sometimes while I was working the bar, you sat at the end with your sketchbook, and we ignored everyone around us with our little inside jokes." The light, lingering touches on her back stopped suddenly, his hand clutching at her, almost desperately. "I think my favorite times were when we talked about nothing, because it somehow turned into everything. Music, art, writing… sometimes we talked about dreams and life and things you trusted only me to know. I've held you in my arms when you cried, when you slept and when you had nightmares. And all of those times… all of those times…"

"What?" she whispered, running her hands over his shoulders, his chest, willing the tension in him to seep away. "Tell me."

He sat up suddenly, making the hammock swing like crazy when he pulled her into the cradle of his split legs. His bare feet hung over the sides, catching what little starlight there was out in the backyard. After she settled herself across his lap she looked up into his face, the wetness under his eyes made her gasp, questions sticking in her throat. A wordless sound of distress escaped her as she ran her thumb over his cheek.

He caught her wrist gently in his hand. "All those times I was talking about… all those times I loved you, Bella. I loved you more than I ever found a way to say. You know, I went along with that friend rule just for show. Just for you, I did that. And we _were_ friends, best friends, but you were always more than that to me."

His lips found the inside of her hand, and he kissed her there, closing her fingers over it. "I never took the chance to say that… then. That you were always more. That I loved you. I wish I had. The you in 2009 deserved that. She deserved to have someone love her without strings. In her eyes, it would have been love despite everything… but… now I don't know if she could have truly understood. That I never had a choice." He smiled sadly. "She was mine, she was always supposed to be mine, just like I could never belong to anyone else but her. It didn't matter what she'd done or what was done to her. We were meant to be together."

Bella sniffed loudly, wanting to speak, but unable to get anything resembling words past her lips.

"Shh, don't cry," he whispered, a broad smile lighting up his face. "Don't you see? We're meant to be together, Bella. You and me. Because you _are_ her. You're her as she was meant to be, without the shadows."

Bella leaned up, pressing her nose into his neck, breathing deeply. "You love me in the future," she murmured. "You're my One, aren't you? You're my One."

"This will all work out, I swear," he promised her fiercely. "We're getting on that plane tomorrow morning, and we're going to get our answers. We'll be okay."

She nodded. "I believe you, Edward. I believe you."

* * *

**Hugs and kisses to faireyfan, les16 and susayq... any mistakes left are completely mine.**

**See y'all next Friday... I promised Dr. Shan some face time. He's very intrigued with this kid on the phone, talking off the cuff about theories no one's ever heard before...**


	25. Balvenie

**Happy Friday :)**

**Hugs and kisses to faireyfan and her vast knowledge (even though I found out she doesn't know everything) *vbg*... and to my voice of reason, les16, who held my hand during my minor smut freak out. And to susayq, just for being herself.**

**More at the bottom...**

* * *

"I can't believe you'd never been on a plane before, you goofy girl," Edward shook his head at her with a smile. "I would've flown us first class or something." He nudged her shoulder with his and grabbed her hand as they walked through the terminal in Denver. "We'll stop by a outdoor store and grab a couple of fleece jackets; it's going to be chilly at night." His eyes moved down her legs. "Well, chillier than you're used to."

"Okay," she replied, thinking about how she'd pay him back. She could have used the credit card connected to her checking account tucked inside her billfold, but she wasn't ready to explain why a store in Colorado was showing up on her statement. Renee probably wouldn't notice but there was always a chance. They'd been tight with money for years; it was almost second nature for her mom to keep a tight rein on where everything went. Although, now that Renee had married Phil Dwyer, money was much less of an issue. Like, no issue at all. So that was nice. She smiled up at Edward, squeezing his hand. She'd figure something out.

Edward beamed back at her, happier than he'd been in months. Everything was going to work out, he could feel it. Bella believed him, they were minutes away from meeting Dr. Shan, who had all the answers, _and_ they had a room at a kick-ass resort. The impending feeling of doom had abated somewhat, even if the headache had not. She believed him. That was everything.

He slowed to a stop in front of a store stocked with camping gear, tucked between a Starbucks and a magazine stand.

"Not here, Edward," Bella murmured, "things are twice as much at the airport, I know that much."

But he shook his head, already pulling her inside. "Don't worry about that. My dad likes it when I spend money. It makes him feel better about being an absentee father." Rifling through a rainbow of hanging fleeces, he settled on a soft powder blue one and held it up to her chest. "Is this one okay? It's blue. You like blue."

"Edward…"

"What. You want darker? This one's kinda royal blue but it's really bright."

"No, I like this one." Bella bit her lip, unsure how to take that comment about his dad. She felt as if she'd suddenly lost her place in a book, flipping around to find where she'd been… abruptly discovering that she'd skipped several important chapters. She hated this feeling of being out of the loop.

"I'm getting you boots too." He stuffed the fleece in her arms and sprinted to the back wall. "C'mere- they have brown and this tan sort of color. You used to have some like this," he said, tapping the top of a huge box.

"It's summer," she argued, following him to the back. "It won't be _that_ cold." She frowned down at where he was crouched, thumbing through the sizes on the boxes, looking for a pair to fit her. "Seriously, stop. And you're wrong. I've never had boots like that."

"Yes you did. I mean… you _will_. Fuck, you know what I mean." He started tugging the big screened phone out of his pocket, the iPhone. "Look- I should have shown these to you earlier, I just didn't have a chance. I've got a great one where you came over for breakfast in January… you ran across in just your pajamas and your boots. It was really cold that day…" he murmured, brows crinkling together. "That's weird."

"What?" She sat down next to him on the dirty, carpeted floor, ignoring the curious look of the saleslady. "Oh… that front picture is gone." The phone screen had defaulted to some kind of system background. The piercing arrow of loss surprised her. It was just a picture, after all. But it had been a glimpse of her future life, as strange as that was.

"No nononono…" he moaned, fingers flying as he searched through different folders. "Holy shit, they're gone. They're all gone."

"_All_ your pictures?"

He nodded silently, working on rebooting the phone and trying again, the desolate look on his face killing her.

"What does that mean?" Bella said quietly and rubbed his shoulder.

"I don't know."

"Maybe it-"

"I don't fucking _know!_ And it's all I had left of her." He slumped down against the wall of shoes and pressed the phone into his forehead, as if he could somehow will his memories back into digital form.

"Hey!" Bella snatched the phone and jerked his hand out of his hair. "Look at me, Edward," she hissed. "You told me that she was _me_. Well, I'm here, goddammit_. I'm here_." She pulled his hand to her cheek and held it there. "Don't do this. Don't say _her_ like I'm not sitting right here in front of you. You said it would be okay, remember?"

He swallowed, his throat working up and down with words he couldn't quite get out.

"We'll make new ones okay?" she whispered desperately. "New memories. It's still me, right? I would totally wear pajamas and boots in freezing weather if there were food involved."

His eyes bored into her. "It was chocolate chip muffins."

"Seriously? Ugh, that is so wrong. Changing my mind."

Edward closed his hand around the side of her head, tangling his fingers in the dark silk of her hair, tugging. He'd caught the pain in her eyes before she could hide it, felt despair turn sharply into anger. Anger at himself.

She came easily, leaning into his touch. Something Firefly would never have done, at least not without thinking about it first. "Bella," he whispered into her hair as he crushed her to him, right there in the corner of the shoe section in a tiny airport store. "I know it's you. I'm sorry."

She wrapped her arms around him, his beautiful girl with faith, trust and hope enough for both of them several times over.

* * *

Picking her way along the stone path, Bella marveled at the landscape. She'd never been anywhere like this… the mountains. The air was dry and sharp, clear, the colors of the trees and flowers so vivid. A sudden burst of energy was working its way through her bones, and she wanted to skip all the way to the door of the cottage. She, Bella Swan, had a boy, and he was cute, no- more than cute… he was _hot_, and he loved her. She was throwing caution to the wind, following her heart, living life to the fullest, plus another few dozen romantic clichés she couldn't remember off the top of her head. If she thought too much about it all though, she would freak and ruin it for herself. So she wouldn't. She wouldn't.

The path led straight to cottage 19, and it was like a picture out of a postcard. Front porch, rocking chairs, the works. She knew they had neighbors in similar cottages, she'd seen the map of the property at check-in, but it was very hard to see anything except wilderness all the way around. Thrilling… and a bit spooky, to be so isolated, even if the isolation was only perceived. She glanced back at the path. She was a little ahead of Edward since he'd stopped in the lobby to call his uncle Peter. There was no sign of him yet, so she dug in her pocket for the key the desk clerk had given her, excited to see inside.

Her mouth fell open as she looked around the living area of the cottage. The backpack slowly slid off her shoulder and flopped onto the floor, soundlessly of course, the carpet was so plush a herd of horses could have stampeded and no one would have known. Tilting her head back, she double-checked the number on the outside of the door. It was right. Of course it was right, she thought, her key opened the lock didn't it? But still. Holy fucking crow.

After walking through, she discovered that it wasn't as big as she'd initially thought, but geez, they had a whirlpool tub and a stone fireplace. In a little cabin in the woods for cripes sake. Secluded. Alone… with Edward. The butterflies in her stomach suddenly came alive. They must be feeling the mountain air too, because they were going crazy.

She walked back to grab her bag by the front door, thinking to put the handful of clothes she'd brought into the dresser drawers beside the bed. The one, very large, very fluffy king-sized bed.

"Hey, great place, huh," Edward said, out of breath, as he rounded the corner through the doorway.

"There's only one bed," she said faintly, walking to the drawers, needing something to do.

"Yeah, it was the last they had. I told the Doc it'd be okay." His hands tucked into his pockets as he followed her into the bedroom, watching her closely. After a minute, he said in a low voice, "And listen… I told you I'd be a gentleman." He shifted on his feet. "You know… unless you don't want me to be." Abruptly, he got busy with his duffle bag, muttering about ibuprofin, kicking off his shoes.

Bella gazed at his profile for a moment, barely breathing, because nothing could have prepared her for the blush that had suddenly streaked across his cheekbones.

"I don't think I want you to be," she whispered, swallowing hard at the heat in his eyes when he looked back up.

He stood slowly and moved over to her, cat feet silent on the carpet. "Good," he said simply, as he loomed with only inches between them, running his fingers under the hem of her shirt. "But we're supposed to have dinner with Dr. Shan in under an hour." Keeping his eyes locked with hers, his hands slid slowly down her back and under the waistband of her shorts to cup her bottom.

"Oh…" she whimpered breathlessly.

His whole body was hard against her, hard where she was soft as he pulled her close, until her breasts pressed against his chest. He laughed softly into her ear, his warm breath tingling, swirling, wrapping his words around her. "God, I want you," he said, kissing over her neck. "I can't believe you're really here."

She had no answer for that, because it was hard for her to believe she was here too. With him, like this. Her head spun and she was nervous, a little shaky but she didn't want to stop.

"I wish I had time to do the things I want…" he murmured as his fingers moved up, tightening on her hip.

"Really?" She could barely breathe. "But we have lots of time. We're here… for…" she moaned as he lightly pinched her nipple through her t-shirt. "For… a few days… aren't we? Oh, _god_."

"I meant now," he laughed softly in her ear, nuzzling her cheek when her head fell back. "There's so much I want to do with you… for you…" taking her earlobe between his teeth, he bit down gently, reveling in the slight jerk of her body. "To you."

"We can go fast," she breathed, her chest hitching when he abandoned her breast to run his fingers under the front waistband of her shorts, under her panties. Inches from where she was already aching for his touch. Her body stilled, and she was on the verge of panting, even begging…

He pushed her back against the wall, his own breath coming in harsh pants. "Fuck," he groaned, "I know we could but… just…" he gave up attempting to make any kind of sense and ran his lips across hers in a quick, hot slide. Anything to distract himself from the needy little thrusts of her hips that he was pretty sure she wasn't aware of, movement seeking the hand that he held pushed up against her lower stomach, torturing them both. The hair between her legs teased his fingertips… just one little dip and he could find out just how wet she was.

But he forced himself to draw his hand out of her pants, and kissed her again to swallow her whimper of distress. He kept the kiss shallow and tugged at her lower lip, easing the small hurt with his tongue seconds later. Her soft, feminine moan slipped into the silence.

Heat seared through him.

He had to get them out of here, or else he'd end up fucking her up against the wall, and she didn't deserve that. Not for her first time. That thought, more than anything else, sobered him enough to pull away. For now, he placed his hands resolutely in the neutral territory of her waist, over her clothes, satisfying himself with the pounding heartbeat he could feel in her neck, the jagged breaths she couldn't hide. Soon, he thought. Tonight.

"Tonight," he said out loud, his voice rough. "I promise. I'll make you feel good."

Bella nodded numbly, ready to do anything if it meant they could come back to this later and not have to stop. Her books, her fantasies, were nothing compared to the reality of Edward pressed up against her. Every movement he'd made had been deliberate; from the lazy way he'd kissed her to the sensually slow temptation of his fingers inside the front of her panties. She didn't fight his withdrawal, the arousal heating his eyes enough to get her through dinner. He kissed her again, nipping at her lip before he pulled completely away with a small smile, only their hands connecting them now.

"Tonight," he promised again.

She sighed and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Edward knew that none of the Stanford professors there would know him on sight, but it was still a shock to have Shan's eyes skip over him without any hesitation, the casual glance of a stranger. He shook it off, and gripping Bella's hand, led her over to the pre-arranged table where the doctor was waiting. As they approached, Dr. Shan stood, almost knocking his chair over.

"Edward?" he asked breathlessly, eyes wide and curious.

"Yes," Edward stepped gingerly up to the table and extended his hand. He thought about saying how nice it was to see him again but decided that might have been a bit much, and settled instead on thanking him profusely for the accommodations.

Shan saw them seated then waved him off. "Not a problem, not a problem. We had them all booked anyway, and someone couldn't come at the last minute." He adjusted his silverware even though it was perfectly straight, then hovered over his tie, a peculiar pink thing, covered with what Bella thought were penguins shaking hands while others held up a peace sign. Dr. Shan stilled his hands when he caught her amusement.

"My mother's bizarre sense of humor, I'm afraid," he said a little sheepishly laying his hands on the table. "I think it was free with a donation to the Audubon Society."

"It's lovely," Bella replied sweetly. She could appreciate any guy who was man enough to wear pink.

"So, you are the young lady in question?" Shan tilted his head at her with a smile.

"Um…" Bella glanced quickly at Edward, biting her lip. He looked a little queasy all of a sudden, and his fingers were back to rubbing his temple.

Shan raised his eyebrows. "Headache?" He leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

"Yeah… and I'm sorry. This is Bella. The young lady in question."

"How long have the headaches been going on, Edward?"

He looked sideways at Bella. "Pretty much the whole time," he said, his voice abruptly dropping all pretenses, exposing the fatigue and stress of the past couple of days. He'd gotten a decent amount of sleep the night before but it hadn't really helped the stabbing pain in his head.

Bella expected the doctor to offer some solution but all he did was hum to himself.

"Tell me more about this theory of yours, Edward. You mentioned on the phone." He signaled the waitress.

"Well…"

"First—sorry," he murmured, glancing at the server, "would you like a drink?" When Edward was silent he spoke up, "I'll take Ba-"

"Balvenie. With a small splash of mineral water," Edward interrupted, staring at the doctor. "Fifteen year single, if you have it," he finished, glancing at the waitress for the first time. She looked back and forth between the two men; the pen paused over her notepad for confirmation.

"Er… yes. That's right, thank you," Shan nodded at the girl.

"I'll take it neat." Edward grinned down at his napkin.

"And for you?" She looked at Bella.

_Lemonade_, Edward thought to himself, as he gazed down at the way her hands twisted together in her lap. _How many times have I made that for you? You like it with a splash of cranberry rum, extra lime. I always stick one of those little touristy pink umbrellas in there even though you tell me not to._

"Um, do you have lemonade?" Bella asked politely.

Edward reached over to pull her hand into his lap.

When the waitress walked away, Dr. Shan rubbed his mouth, looking Edward over as if seeing him for the first time. "Tell me," he said quietly, after a long few moments.

Edward leaned forward. "You told me that fate was like a GPS system, guiding us on our path through life, to our individual destinations."

"Yes."

"And that if we take a wrong turn, whether by choice or not, fate continuously recalculates to set us back on the right path." Neither man blinked as the waitress brought the drinks to the table.

"Thank you," Bella murmured.

"Our choices are our own, within our plan. Fate uses our conscience, our instincts… our hearts to lead us."

"That theory was something I'd only batted around in my head. I'd never even written it down. And it wasn't even as well-formed as you just presented it." He downed his scotch in one gulp. "But how do you explain yourself? How do you explain the fact that you've time traveled, if indeed, that is what you've done?" Shan's voice had turned into a heated whisper, laced with the terrified anticipation of someone taking a leap of faith off a high cliff.

"Something went wrong… there was one horribly wrong night that affected so many people. I came back to fix that." He searched for the right words, "I thought… I thought that I came back to save one girl. But I realized that by saving her, other lives were changed as well."

"Without question," Shan said a little sharply, sitting back, "the ripples of the things you've altered will be felt everywhere."

"But I will be the only one to know the difference," Edward said softly. "The curse of the time traveler, you said. Having two feet in two different realities." He stared at the table. "She'll never know the pain of that night," he mumbled, a little self-conscious. "What she went through… I would have given my life to save her from that."

He looked sideways at Bella but she seemed pale, unable to meet his eyes, and the table was momentarily silent.

"So, I'm not sure what to do now. Do you think… can I stay here? In this time?"

"What do you think?" Dr. Shan asked quietly.

"I don't think I can, even though I want to. I… feel it somehow. I can't… explain it. I was hoping that you could tell me how I could stay. And the headaches…" Edward trailed off, feeling cold, like he'd eaten a handful of ice cubes, freezing him from the inside out.

Fidgeting with his tie, the doctor cleared his throat, started to speak, and then apparently thought better of it.

"Dr. Shan?"

"Edward… you can't stay here."

Bella tugged her hand away from where Edward had been holding it in his lap. He didn't stop her.

"And the greater tragedy you mentioned? You believe that you have defied fate in preventing this death… "

"No," Edward shot back, "_no_. Her death was never supposed to be in the cards. It was a product of that night that I changed. I feel certain of that."

Shan frowned. "But-"

"Wait. Who died?" Bella asked in a soft voice, blushing slightly from interrupting. "Edward, did I know her?"

* * *

**Way to ruin the bedroom mood, Edward.**

**The lovely DiamondHeart78 interviewed me on the fabulous blog- The Boubie Network.**

**You can search "primarycolors" at the bottom of the front page here... (take out the spaces)**

**http : / boubied . wordpress . com/**

**or you can just follow the link on my author page.**

**It was a lot of fun- and I love those girls. Lots of goodies on there. There might be some answers to reader questions too... something about an HEA?**

**Thank you all for reading :) See you next Friday!**


	26. Rose Garden

**Happy Friday! :) Much love to faireyfan, les16 and susayq. Any mistakes left are mine.**

**I don't own Twilight. Just a little Firefly.**

* * *

"_Wait. Who died?" Bella asked in a soft voice, blushing slightly from interrupting. "Edward, did I know her?"_

Both men simply stared at her, apparently having forgotten that she was even at the table. When the awkward silence had drawn out long enough, Bella sat up straight, perched on the edge of her seat like a little bird.

"Well, I know everything else…" she started up in defense, as if they had both frowned immediately and given loud, resounding negatives. "Why not this? You said that it'd been changed, right? So then whoever you were talking about… they don't die." She shrugged. "So what's the big deal if it doesn't even happen?"

The sounds of the resort restaurant seemed amplified as the table stood at a wordless stalemate of sorts, until the waitress appeared to take the order for dinner. Bella went from somewhat uncomfortable to downright embarrassed. Obviously there were things Edward and Dr. Shan needed to discuss but couldn't because she was there at the table. This was why he'd told her to stay on the couch at Alice's when he went to make that phone call… if she hadn't stumbled upon that picture of herself on Edward's iPhone, she might not know any of this. Would he even have told her? Would he have come out here by himself or did he drag her along because he'd felt like he had to?

"And for you, ma'am?"

Bella's eyes snapped up to the waitress. "Um… I think I'm fine with lemonade, thanks."

"You should eat something," Edward said quietly, but he stared at his menu with a glazed look. His knee bounced up and down.

"But I'm not really hungry," she mumbled, scanning the menu anyway. Years of living with Renee had trained her not to make a scene, ever, even if she wanted badly to stomp out and have a good frustrated cry in the sculpted hedges by the fountain outside the front doors. There were lots of hiding places in the garden they'd walked through to come to the restaurant; she might be able to hide for days before anyone found her. And the roses had been lovely even if she could never abide the heavy scent of them.

* * *

"_Isabella! What on earth! Come out of there! Those have thorns you know… you'll put holes in that dress!_

"_Sorry, Mama." She crawled out on her belly, wishing for an instant that she was a snake and that she could simply slither away. On the upside she could scare the hell out of her mama. On the downside though… ugh. How horrible it would be to have to open her jaws and swallow mice and birds whole, in one big gulp. Surely there were vegetarian snakes… somewhere. Maybe she could be the first one._

"_Look at you," Renee sighed, the contempt a familiar tone when it came to speaking to her youngest daughter. "Filthy. You're almost ten for goodness sakes. What were you doing?"_

"_Nothing." Already she'd learned to keep her thoughts secret. The fairies had gone, the rose garden no longer a safe haven for them. Bella had known it was coming… she'd seen the signs. And she didn't blame them. The love was gone from her house. How could they stay in a garden so gray and lifeless? Oh, it was stunning on the outside. Now that her mother had hired a service to take care of the yard in the absence of her father, it was absolutely beautiful. Big, heavy blooms, the fragrance so sweet and thick it could steal your air if you weren't careful. But it was rotten where no one could see, where it drank nourishment from under the ground, under her mother's house. The roots had festered, gone cold with scorn and hatred, dying from the inside out in a world without the light of her father._

* * *

She hated the smell of roses. People always thought roses meant love. They gave yellow for friendship, white for innocence. But the beautiful part was all just a distraction in the end. A horrible disguise. Because roses meant death and leaving. How fitting that they would walk through the rose garden on the way back to the cabin, where Edward would explain to her that he had to go away.

"Ah, may I suggest the spicy scampi with cinnamon couscous?" Dr Shan peered at Bella over his reading glasses. "It's wonderful; I had it yesterday."

"Okay. Thanks." She nodded weakly at the waitress. As Edward and Dr. Shan placed their own orders, Bella pinched off a tiny bit of bread and popped it in her mouth, hoping it would settle her stomach. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she announced, rising and placing the cloth napkin in her seat. A small smile curved her mouth when Edward ran a questioning hand down her arm, his eyes troubled. "Just to the restroom," she promised softly.

"Bella…" he murmured so quietly she could barely hear him. "You'll have to trust me."

A short nod. "I'll be right back."

She could feel the eyes on her as she weaved a path through the dining room in search of a little privacy. There were other guests at the resort that were not with the Stanford group, but it seemed that the tables she had to walk past grew quiet as her sandals clicked on the tile, anticipating her approach. It was most likely her own paranoia, she told herself. Dr. Shan appeared to be very nice, not a gossipy type of person, but then she had no idea if scientists were gossipy or not, in a general sense. She hoped not. The idea of Edward being some sort of… test subject… didn't sit well with her.

In the bathroom, her reflection looked the same as it always had. Maybe a little fancier… she'd swept a mascara wand over her upper lashes back in the cabin, dotted on a little lip-gloss. The gloss was long gone but her lips were stained from the pomegranate lemonade. And her cheeks were flushed. Probably from sitting next to Edward… and from… _earlier_ in the bedroom. A corner of her mouth turned up as she touched her warm face with the back of her fingers. Then, dropping her eyes to the marble sink, she washed her hands several times, almost compulsively. Enough stalling, Bella. Why did you really run in here like a scared little girl?

Who had died?

Well, Bella thought as she ran her hands under the water, the person was a _she_.

And it must have been someone she knew, otherwise they would tell her who, and how… wouldn't they? She couldn't remember Edward talking about anyone else really… especially not another girl. His mother had died when he was little; he'd confided that on the plane.

He had only really talked about his Firefly… herself, in the future.

"_I called you Firefly… I guess it was sort of a nickname."_

"_Like my dad called me Starfish."_

"_Yeah," _he'd said._ "Like that."_

At the time she'd written off the emotion in his eyes for exhaustion, stress.

A cold tendril of dread started uncoiling low in her belly.

"_You've lost someone," _she'd told him back in Rosie's apartment, sympathy in her eyes.

It had been her. She didn't know how she knew. But she did.

She felt faint, watched herself go sheet white. If she hadn't been braced against the counter, she'd have collapsed- it seemed as if all the air was gone from the room.

How Edward had stared at her at the party, like he hadn't seen her in such a long time. How he'd never gotten the chance to tell her he loved her… before. His unexplainable grief. How she could feel his eyes on her whenever they were in the same room, like he'd been stuck in the desert for a long, long time and she was the only glass of water for miles. How he couldn't stop touching her, like he was reassuring himself she was still here.

"_I just can't believe you're here,"_ he'd said. Not… '_I_ can't believe _I'm_ here.' Because after all, he was the one to do the time travel thing.

All she could think now was, _How?_

How?

She had to know how it happened so she could avoid whatever it was… oh god, was it painful? Was it quick? Did he see it happen? Was she… murdered?

Bella didn't know how long she stood there trembling in the bathroom, but it was long enough for Edward to come searching for her. He knocked first, then when she didn't answer, he slowly opened the door and peered around the corner, meeting her eyes in the mirror. He didn't seem surprised to find her scared and shaking, her hands getting wrinkly from sink water.

"The food is here." His voice was quiet, but it still echoed in the bathroom.

"Tell me how it happened, Edward."

He shook his head slowly. She could practically hear the door of him slam in her face.

"You don't have to say her name. It's okay. Just tell me… h-how."

"I can't, Bella. I can't talk about this now."

"Right now… or ever?"

"Right now. I promise we'll talk about it later."

"Can you tell me… was it… an accident? Or…"

"It was ruled an accident," he murmured vacantly as he leaned against the door. He stared at his shoes.

Bella realized she was losing him. But he'd said at the table that the death was a result of the night he'd changed. The night she and Rosie had been attacked by Royce King. How was that possible? Maybe Royce had come to find her years later… maybe he'd been pissed that she'd gone to the police. Maybe he'd served his time and was out on parole and came to get revenge or something. That had to have been it… because god knows, if she'd really been attacked like Edward said, there was no way she could live without putting his ass behind bars.

But Edward had sounded so sure that the death was not meant to be… that it had been avoided now. How could he be so sure? There were no guarantees… especially when there was another person involved. Especially when it was Royce King.

Suddenly Edward was there in front of her, rubbing her clenched fist, kissing her fingers to make them open.

"Come on, stop being dramatic in the bathroom," he said. "Now's not the time."

God, she wanted to smack him. "I have to know."

"Leave it."

"I'll make you tell me, Edward," she said, stubborn. "I have a right to know."

"And I said you'd need to trust me."

"And I _am_ trusting you, a hell of a lot, don't you think? I believed you. I believe _in_ you, even though I know you're going to break my heart."

He opened his mouth to argue back but a woman opened the door behind him, startled at finding him in the ladies powder room.

"Excuse me," he muttered. "Bella. Please." A warning cloaked in soft words. He glanced at her one last time before he set his jaw and stalked out.

Bella sighed and moved to the side, determined to wait a few minutes more, just on principle. If she'd been at home in small-town Florida, the lady coming in might have looked at her and clucked with sympathy, butting in and asking if she was having love problems, maybe even going so far as to say, _Girl, if that boy don't treat you right he's dumber than a bag of hammers._

But she didn't. The lady ignored her completely, touched up her lipstick and walked back out. Bella sagged against the wall, homesick, confused, the fight seeping out of her.

* * *

The chef was at their table, big white hat and everything. Her hands moved fast as she converted two of the meals into shiny silver tinfoil swans to go. Bella's steps slowed, suddenly ashamed. She'd ruined dinner.

But Edward was nothing but polite and attentive as she approached the table, waving off her apology. "Feeling better?" he asked as he pulled her in to his side, kissing the top of her head.

She hummed a vague affirmative and watched the chef and Dr. Shan, fascinated. "Do they know each other?"

"No. But they will," he replied, amused.

Dr. Shan was keeping his hands busy cleaning his immaculate reading glasses, while the pretty chef actually sat in the chair next to him, and asked him to sign a menu.

"Evidently Tina is a big fan of Shan's articles on The String Theory and Loop Quantum Gravity," he whispered in her ear. "She came out to make sure he liked his dinner." He held up his hand at the doctor and nodded. "See you tomorrow, doc."

"Certainly, certainly," Dr. Shan grinned toothily and stood with an awkward little bow. "Tomorrow. Feel better soon, Miss Swan." Tina the chef claimed his attention soon after she'd handed the swans off to Edward with a smile.

Bella couldn't read him as they walked toward the door that led outside. He seemed distracted, his thoughts far away. She'd lost him. Maybe she never really had him, despite all the things he'd said, despite all the 'I love you's'. She was too young, too inexperienced. Maybe the love he felt for her was left over from her other… self. And now that he was leaving… well, he must be trying to put some distance between them.

The gardens were immense. After they passed the fountain the path turned woodsy, even though the brick side of the building they came from ran along beside them. She bet people got married here all the time, she mused, it was that type of place. Romantic, a little mysterious, especially when the moon was out like it was tonight, throwing deep shadows that lovers could hide in. It felt cold tonight though, even though it was the middle of summer. All she seemed to see were the flowers that were past their prime, dying, brown and withered. And the smell… there was nothing worse than the smell of rotting roses.

"You're awfully quiet," Edward said, acting as if he'd suddenly realized they hadn't talked for ten minutes.

Anger, wild and hurting, slammed through her sadness. If he was going to leave her and go back to… _wherever_, she was going to make damn sure she knew what to expect from the likes of Royce King. Maybe he wouldn't go to jail for rape, but he'd be there for drugs. And he'd be pissed when he got out.

"I know, Edward. I know it was me," she stopped walking and stood against a tree, arms folded. "So just tell me what happened."

Edward sighed. But to his credit, he kept his face fairly expressionless. He didn't deny it either. Even though those days were a painful, bloody bruise that would never heal, and he didn't relish the thought of poking around in it, he knew he'd have to explain. He was just hoping to… delay this particular conversation. Why couldn't she just listen to him for once? "It's irrelevant, Bella. That future doesn't exist. You saw my pictures disappear. So just trust me and drop it."

"No," she snapped, her calm evaporating in the face of his absolute denial.

His hand tightened on a low tree limb as he stared at her. Bella's response had been lost in the buzz of noise inside Edward's head as he tried to get past the vision she created without even knowing… her eyes sparked, furious, her chest heaved as she drew in deep lungfuls of open air. She pulled her hands through her tangled hair, tugging, and he swallowed hard at the livid color on her cheeks. Good god, she was so damn stubborn. And beautiful.

"You _will_ tell me," she said in a rigid voice. "I have to know how to protect myself."

"What?" He laughed harshly. "Protect- from _who_? Well, you'd better figure out how to protect you from yourself, then." Dammit, she was definitely pissing him off. Oh, he was going to tell her all right, and suddenly he didn't care how much it would hurt. Her _and_ him.

Bella took a step back, the surprise all over her face.

"I… hurt my own self?" she asked, already shaking her head. "I don't believe that. That wasn't me. There's no way I would have done that."

"Goddammit, _yes_, it was _you_," he roared in her face as he shoved her up against the wall. "It was you. It was like you _wanted_ to leave, otherwise how could anyone have been so completely stupid to go out there alone there on a day like that?"

Impossible. Her head spun. "But… it can't be. Edward, I can't believe I would ever choose to leave you." The _how_ suddenly didn't matter in the face of this new information. But what else could she say? She hadn't been there.

"I'll never know, will I?" he said hotly, the blaze of his eyes lighting her up on the inside. "Because you were just gone. And there wasn't anything to fight. There wasn't another guy, you weren't sick, I didn't even have a chance to reason with you if you'd suddenly had doubts about a relationship. You were just gone." His voice had dropped to an angry hiss as he pinned her to the brick with his hips.

"Edward," she whimpered. The pain in his eyes shamed her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I pushed you too hard the night before. It was too soon. And then you were gone," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. The words rubbed raw and struggled to get out. His palms scraped against the brick, caging her in. "My whole world. And there wasn't anything I could do about it."

"I'm here now."

"I want you, Bella," he mumbled against her throat as he pulled away slightly. Her eyes flicked to the path behind him, leading to their cottage. Only a five-minute walk. One hand stroked slowly down her back, to her bottom.

"Oka-"

"I want to make you come." His mouth brushed over hers in tiny, teasing bites.

Her eyes widened, and the butterflies shot to life in her stomach. "Here? Now?"

Edward's hands slid up over her ribs, stroked the lower curves of her breasts. "Yes," he said simply, as if orgasms in rose gardens were everyday occurrences. They were in a dark alcove, sheltered between a tree and the unyielding red brick of the resort center. Leafy rose bushes surrounded them, standing like red romantic sentries, love's permission to be wicked in the shadows. No one would notice them. Unless he could make her scream.

And he was so fucking tired of waiting. There was nothing he wanted more than to have her.

"But-" The air left her throat in a gasp as he bit at her lip at the same time he rolled a nipple through the fabric of her shirt. She felt him hard, pushing at her stomach and her knees nearly buckled. The little bag of silver foiled swans fell to the ground.

Only her discomfort gave her the will to break the kiss and suck in a breath, while he dipped his head and closed his mouth over the frantic pulse beating in her neck.

"Someone will see… hear!" she burst out in a loud whisper, even as she pushed herself into his hands.

"You'll have to be quiet," he grinned against her mouth, as he unbuttoned her shorts with nimble fingers, his other hand in open possession of her breast. His anger had morphed into a soul-searing intensity, the green of his eyes licked hot, glittering in the transient glow of the moonlight.

"But we can't do it out here, Edward," she squeaked, eyes darting all around the garden. As much as she wanted him to continue, she was too private, too possessive of him already, and of something that would be so intimate between them. "I- I can't. You know I haven't… um, ever." She swallowed hard, emotion shining in her eyes, begging him to understand. "You know… right?"

"Yeah." His hands gripped her hips tightly, thumbs pressed into the soft part of her pelvis, a not-so-subtle message that she was staying right where he wanted her… but his eyes were full of nothing but tenderness and love. "I know, sweetheart. That's not what we're doing, though." He drew his hand up to cup her cheek. "Hey… Bella, look at me. I just want to touch you." Running both hands over her shoulders, he kissed her gently, trembling. "Jesus… please, _please_ let me touch you."

She tried to say _okay_, that she would die too if he didn't touch her but the words fluttered and died in her throat.

He nodded, understanding anyway, and his breath caught at the trust she had in him, her beautiful heart open, guileless, all shining in her eyes. "You can watch," he whispered, playing now. "If you want."

Now that he'd said that, both of them looked down to see Edward's hand slowly disappear into the front of her shorts, the top already unfastened and spread wide open, sporting the shy white grin of her satin bikini panties.

She thought he might start with stroking her over her underwear but he didn't. He meant business, going straight for skin on skin, gentle fingers combing delicately through her damp patch of hair, tracing, teasing up and down, slowly, slowly. His shoulder rolled as he angled his arm for a better position, bringing his mouth closer to her neck where he kissed her, distracted, his whole body tensing at the moment his fingers parted her, moving easily in the slickness.

Bella felt wicked and decadent, naughty; the buzzing in her head canceling out everything except what Edward's fingers were doing to her between her legs. Quivering, she barely heard him tell her to open her legs a bit more, to prop her foot up on the little rock beside them. Somehow her body obeyed him though, and her head fell back to the brick behind her. She watched the swing and sway of the elm tree that towered over their heads, silhouetted against the backdrop of a million stars, holding her breath as she felt the slight burn of him entering her body.

Edward stilled his hand, and pressed his thumb lightly on the nub of her clitoris. After a few seconds he could feel her relax, and he gave an experimental pull and push of his finger. Her little gasps and moans tugged on some kind of line that connected directly to his cock, because he twitched in his pants every single time she made one of her quiet breathy sounds.

"How many?" she gasped, bending her head to look at him. She had to know… his hand felt huge. Sex would feel like she was splitting in two, surely. _"Oh god_, that feels… that feels…"

"How many fingers?" He kissed her ear. "Just one."

Their eyes locked as he set up a lazy rhythm. It was the most intimate thing that had ever happened to her in her young life, the way his eyes held hers, in love, trust, building this unbelievable feeling rocketing through her body. Her hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the crazy hammering proof that this was affecting him just as much as it was affecting her. She laughed breathily when she raked her thumbnail over his nipple and his eyes rolled back in his head. Dime store romance novels _were_ good for something!

"Christ… Bella, yes," he moaned, leaning forward, running his nose along her throat. His other hand roamed her body before wrapping itself up in her long hair.

She wondered dazedly how one simple in and out movement could produce such a world of sensation. Her body tilted to meet the thrust of his hand, like the give and take of the endless ocean, and the buzzing, the crashing in her ears. _Oh dear god, ohgodohgod…_

"You're almost there," he panted, "I can feel you." The faintest of grins flashed across his face. "You're almost there, sweetheart." He tweaked the thumb he'd been holding still, just a little, biting back a groan when she jolted in his arms.

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

He put his mouth over hers when he finally started to circle around her clitoris, rubbing firmly with his thumb. She moaned into his mouth, arching off the brick, quivering, her body rigid, wanting, waiting to fly. His arm wound around her waist up so she wouldn't fall. He smiled brilliantly at her, even though her eyes were closed. So fucking beautiful.

"I've got you," he said over her lips, "I've got you." His fingers sped up until she jerked wildly and with a soft cry, clamped down hard on his hand, her rhythmic pulses like a green light to his cock. How sweet it would be to push into her right now, warm and slick and sated, and oh-so-fucking swollen and tight. The front of his shorts was wet. He'd like to think that was from her but he knew it was him, his cock doing it's own version of drooling and slobbering at the thought of getting inside Bella.

But he couldn't. He wasn't about to do that to her, love her like that and then say his goodbyes. The last thing he wanted was to leave her, but when Dr. Shan had put it into words, it felt inevitable. It felt right, even though it was so wrong. Fate was cruel, a heartless and bitter old Shakespearean crone who had no compunction whatsoever about cutting life strings and dealing out broken hearts. But as much as this hurt, as much as it _already_ hurt, it couldn't touch the pain of living in a world without her. He wouldn't survive that twice. If leaving her was the price he had to pay for her life, then so be it.

"I love you," he whispered, tears in his voice, before slamming a god dammed vise clamp down on his emotion.

Hurting her was unavoidable, no way around it, but he couldn't let the defeat show on his face. She definitely didn't deserve that. Not after what they'd just done.

Bella had a death grip on his shirt; she'd yanked it out of his shorts, balled up in her fists. Hesitantly, he kissed her, relieved when she sweetly kissed him back, shivering when he drew his hand out of her underwear and buttoned her back up.

"Wow," she whisper-sighed, tacking a girlish giggle on at the end. "Edward…" She seemed to be at a loss for words, and snuggled in happily when he hugged her to his chest, lifting her off the ground.

"Let's get you back to the cabin," he murmured and set her down on shaky feet, attempting to avoid rubbing his cock all over the front of her shorts in the process. She wasn't helping matters though. Her hands couldn't stop touching him; a sly smile across her lips as her fingers danced over the buttons of his shirt.

"Can I… do I get to touch you too?" she wondered aloud, glancing up, her usual wide-eyed gaze heavy and languorous, eyes still innocent, but with a hint of carnal knowledge sparking deep n their depths. She blushed and appeared fascinated with the top of his shorts when the intensity between them continued to build. "I want to touch you like you did to me." She licked her bottom lip, dying to say 'I want to make you come,' like he did, but she just couldn't. Not yet. "Can we?"

Edward groaned. And God help him, her sweet words combined with the tip of her little pink tongue peeking out of her mouth jerked that string and he twitched right there in front of her. She giggled again, and laid her hand over that aching part of him, rubbing lightly. "Did you do that on purpose? Do it again."

"Holy… fuck, Bella, don't…" he gasped and grabbed her wrist, intending to tuck her arm back at her side, when in fact, all he did was press her hand against him, hard. He fell heavily on his other hand, all his weight leaning on the arm stretched out beside her head. She got the idea, gazing up at him through her lashes as she stroked him over his pants.

"Like this?" she breathed, and she reached for his belt. She shivered, and wanted to hear him moan again. It did funny things to her insides.

He did stop her that time, and started laughing. "You, little girl, are about to get yourself in trouble."

"Is that so?" she grinned at him, eyes sharp as she watched him adjust himself. "I think I can handle you."

"Right," he drawled, as he snapped off a nearby rosebud and tucked it behind her ear. "Hop on, then."

"W-What?"

Edward let out a loud laugh that echoed through the branches. The look on her face was priceless. "I meant, hop on my back. I'll piggyback you to the cabin." He kept laughing, holding up his hands to defend himself when she shoved him on the shoulder. "What- you had a different kinda ride in mind?"

"No," she smiled, "but I don't think you can run with the state you're in. You can't carry me and that thing too."

"Oh, Bella, there's so much you don't know." And suddenly his lips and tongue were locked with hers in a kiss that took over her mouth. She held on to him tight, knowing that if he hadn't been pushing her up against the wall she would have absolutely melted into a puddle of goo right there in the grass. And she was going to have to reevaluate her opinion on rose gardens.

* * *

**Thank you guys for reading. I'm horrible at replying to reviews but wow, I love them (and you) so much.**

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**Love to all! Thank you so much :)**


	27. Girlfriend

**Another Friday :) Thank you all for coming back.**

**I'm terribly, horribly last minute- les16 was the only one I could grab before she walked out the door. And Faireyfan is a cheerleader even on the road. Thank you both, so much.**

**Thank you to all the wonderful people tweeting, blogging, Facebooking about Firefly. It just blows me away. :D  
**

**I don't own Twilight. And any lingering mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**_Edward's memory, an erased July 2008_**

_She was quiet tonight, he thought, as he dumped the lemons from the little glass bowl into a baggie for the fridge. No, more than quiet… quiet was a given with Bella. She seemed… melancholy. Contemplative. Introspective in a way that told him she didn't like what she was looking at. Or thinking of._

"_Dude, I'm gonna head." Jake snapped and popped his fingers, in some sort of cool frat boy handshake that Edward met with his own crude gesture, pulling a laugh from deep in Jake's chest. "E, you're wrong in the head, you know that?"_

"_Yeah," Edward laughed and pushed the kid's tips into his hand. "Known for a long time, now."_

"_I got that thing tomorrow, remember?"_

"_I do. Have fun, man. Don't knock anybody up." _

"_Duly noted, but I can't help it if the girls recognize a master in the arts of love," Jake called as he walked toward Bella's table. He always stopped by to see her sketchbook on his way out. "Whoa, that is sick!" he whooped. "Man, you are freakishly talented, girl. Why are you living here in the boonies? You should be somewhere like Italy… or Paris! At the Looo-vrrah." When Jake talked his whole body __participated__, complete with windmilling arms, dancing and comically bulging eyes._

_Bella was used to his drama though, and merely shrugged her shoulders, her gaze flicking to Edward before it dropped down to her paper. "Thanks Jake," she smiled at her hands._

_There. Her smile. Edward grinned back reflexively from behind the bar. That delicious curl of tension smoked him low in his belly, tickly tendrils seeking, waking his cock. Not that it was ever really asleep when Bella was around… more like dormant, conserving energy. Biding its time until she pulled her head out of the sand and saw that he'd do anything for her. Anything. _

_When the door closed behind the kid, Edward was drawn to her like a magnet; the force of the tug unimpeded now that the bar was empty. No distractions. He bit at his lip as he slid into the seat opposite hers. She'd flipped her sketchbook closed and he wondered what he could say to get her to open it._

"_What do I have to say to get you to open that?" he __asked__ quietly, desperately, but infusing it with enough humor so she couldn't see how lost he was._

_Just a glimpse, Firefly, he thought at her. Let me see your eyes. Tell me something secret about you. Tell me anything._

_She laughed, furrowing her brow, squirming under his directness. "I don't know. Um, I don't mind if you see."_

_He sat on his hands to keep himself from reaching and grabbing like a little kid given free reign at the candy store. But seeing a page in her book was oh-so better than candy. What came from the end of her pencil came from inside her, and he was desperate to know what she thought might be important enough to put on paper._

_He studied her, the shadow of lashes on her cheek, a tiny flash of white as she nibbled the end of her pencil… and wondered if he'd ever be able to touch her the way he wanted. Damn that Friend Rule._

_Edward felt vaguely petulant as they looked through the pages of Bella's sketchbook. She was good. Extraordinarily good. The scenes she'd drawn were amazing, even the ones that were scribbled in corners, or abandoned because she hadn't liked where they were going. The graphite strokes were graceful… delicate where there was light, but not afraid to descend into confident, bold lines to create shadow. There were pages of the inside of his bar, of the customers, a beautiful one of light filtering in the window from the sunset… there was even one of Jake in action, mixing a drink. After he made all the appropriate noises of amazement at her talent he grew quiet, pensive, and knew that she'd noticed._

"_Well…," he wrinkled his nose at her. "You've got one of Jake… so uh, where's one of me?" _

_Pathetic. Yeah, he knew. But that didn't stop him from hanging on her answer._

_She blushed brilliantly and he realized that he'd embarrassed her. He just wasn't sure why. After all, he was the sorry sap who craved the feeling of her eyes on him, studying, committing him to memory and then to paper. Why wouldn't she draw him? She'd drawn fucking Jacob for god's sake. _

"_You're harder to draw," she admitted. "Sometimes I lose my train of thought…"_

_He was quiet, not sure how he should take that. He wasn't interesting enough to hold her attention?_

"_But… I have drawn you before. Just something quick." She waved a nervous hand around in the air. "Not a big deal, really."_

"_I want to see it."_

_Rising, she grabbed her pencil and stuck it behind her ear. "Sure, we'll do that sometime." She grabbed the damp cloth he'd brought with him and rubbed it over her table space, even though there was really nothing to clean. He pulled it away with a frown._

"_Stop that. Wait, where are you going?"_

"_Edward… it's one in the morning." _

"_I know, yeah." Biting his lip, he hesitated. "Okay. I'll walk you home then."_

"_That's okay. You don't have to." _

_Defeat pushed at him, and he wondered why she'd stayed so late if she didn't want to talk a little. The bar had been busy… it was always packed around the fourth of July and this year was no different. Maybe he hadn't shown her enough attention tonight, but then she never seemed to want it when he had it to give. Bella was always a little distant. Tonight though… tonight she seemed really far away. _

_He shuffled out behind her. She was right, she hardly needed an escort, but he didn't feel like saying goodnight just yet._

"_Tell me you went to art school somewhere, Bella. And you know you could probably be selling those paintings of yours in a hot-shot gallery somewhere. I don't really know anyone with galleries in Atlanta or New Orleans, but I know people in Chicago… hell, my stepmother would sign a blank check blindfolded for some of the stuff you do."_

_She stopped at the bottom of her steps and turned to face him, sketchbook clutched close to her chest, that maddening pencil tucked behind her ear, tiny little teeth marks etched around the wooden barrel. She could bite him instead. Anytime. Anywhere._

"_I attended The Savannah School of Art and Design for a year," she said, a note of pride in her voice. "And then I came out here."_

"_Why only a year? Was it too expensive?" His mind raced through different scenarios. He had the money to pay tuition if she ever wanted to go back, not that she'd accept it of course, but then that would also mean that she left Summerside. And that was a big, giant No-Fucking-Way right now, because he was a selfish prick and he wanted her to stay right where she was. Unless of course, she wanted to move in with him, because that would be okay too._

"_Actually, I had a full scholarship," she said faintly, pulling the door key out of her back pocket. "But it didn't really work out. I liked it there though. I think I could have… I think I could've loved it but it just got too hard." Her words held a haunting sense of pain, of memory._

_Edward shook his head. "That's pretty hard to believe. Art school being too hard for you." _

_She shrugged and turned her key._

"_You should go back," he blurted before he remembered that her leaving was the last thing he wanted. "I mean… not that you need any more help… uh, instruction. You know what I mean." Her expression didn't change, but he knew she'd heard him._

"_No," she said. "That's over. And I'm glad I'm here… I don't want to be anywhere else. But…" She'd turned toward the ocean, dark, the moon barely a sliver in the sky._

"_But what?"_

"_I wish I'd stuck it out and not run away. At the time, it just seemed the best thing to do. On the other hand, I probably wouldn't have ended up here, you know?" She graced him with a smile._

"_In that case, one year of college is all anyone ever needs," he joked. "My last three years were totally wasted. Look at me now, a fancy Dartmouth degree and I'm tending bar."_

_She laughed… and that right there made the whole damn day worth living. He stuck his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. Something crinkled under his fingers and he pulled out a peppermint._

"_You missed one," he grinned, tossing it to her._

"_Thanks," Bella beamed at him and clutched her treasure. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow sometime?_

"_Yeah. Goodnight Bella."_

"'_Night." One last look over her shoulder and then she was gone, throwing the locks in place behind her._

_Sweet dreams, Firefly._

* * *

**_June 2004_**

Edward did indeed give Bella a piggyback ride. He lifted her easily, hooking his arms behind her knees, a flash of pride warming him when he felt her tremble as she molded her body to his back. Thinking of his hands on her, _in_ her, kept the white-hot ache in his cock full throttle. He knew he needed to be a gentleman, get his mind off things like the fastest way to remove her clothes once they cleared the doorway, or how his hand felt wrapped in her hair as he kissed her… or how his fingers had dried, but that he could still feel her all over his skin.

His head pounded along with his cock, the blood pulsing, matching the stride of his feet, 'til he wanted to just make a damn run for the door to break the rhythm. Time was ticking down, he could feel it… god, he could feel it. It wasn't something he could explain, either… he'd tried, because Shan had been really interested in that part. That was after he'd satisfied his curiosity about whether or not Edward was mentally ill.

On his back, Bella shifted her thighs and pressed her mouth against his neck. It was heaven and hell smashed together… but not wrapped up neatly with a bow, like the saying went. This was messy and hot, and seeping out the corners, stitched together haphazardly with a tiny ribbon of pain. All because he didn't know what he wanted. He couldn't tell the heaven from the hell and it was going to hurt all of them in the end.

He rolled his eyes at himself… rock hard, scampering through the woods. He needed to decide how it would go when they got back to the cabin. It'd be wrong to sleep with her, wouldn't it? Yes, because she was only seventeen… but no, because she was Bella, and they belonged together. Age was kind of irrelevant when you could time travel.

He thought of all the ways he could take her, all the things he could show her, how good it could feel, especially with someone you loved. But he'd had a year to fall in love with Bella… he'd wanted her from the minute he saw her, barefoot, all wide-eyed and skittery, delivering her secret lasagna. But to love her, that took longer. And he was way in the deep end before he'd even realized he'd jumped in the pool.

In contrast, Bella had only known _him_ for two days. He didn't blame her for not saying those three words back to him. And even if she did, he wasn't sure he'd believe her. God, he'd _want_ to believe her, otherwise, why would she bother to find him in the future, after only spending three or four days together? An intense three or four days, yes… but she was only seventeen. And she had a life to live. Her memory of him would fade… he'd be that little weekend trip she took before she started college, before endless doors of opportunity were flung wide open, all begging for her attention. And if this happened like he thought, he'd pop back to 2010, to a lonely bar on the beach. Alone. And Bella's house would still be empty. Her flower beds lifeless, dead and gray.

But _she_ would be alive. Somewhere. And that was what mattered.

* * *

Bella twined her arms around Edward's neck and buried her nose in his hair, wondering when, where… _how_ he would leave her. They were silent on the way back to the cabin, the rasping chant of the crickets coupled with the thump-thump-thump of the silver-foiled dinner swans against his chest, a peculiar measure of how much time was left until they walked through the door. Sixty thumps… fifty… panic poked spidery fingers through her chest, up her throat. He couldn't go. She would fight to make him stay. God, she would fight him, she'd insist, she'd follow him, she'd pull every trick she ever saw her sister pull; it'd be worth it if she could keep him. Because if he left… if he left she might never find him again.

Her arms tightened around him.

She didn't understand how this time travel stuff worked; it didn't make sense. His body didn't actually go back in time, like Marty McFly in his DeLorean. It was more like a mind jump… his consciousness coming back to the past to invade who he was in 2004. She was no Dr. Shan, but that would explain his headaches.

There was an Edward _here_ in 2004. He was a student at Dartmouth. So… he really _wasn't _leaving. Not really. She could go with him to Dartmouth, wait tables, they could live together. He'd already told her that she'd sold paintings in a little beachside town… she could still do that. They could live wherever he wanted. She didn't need a degree from art school to paint… and she could sell her artwork anywhere. She'd rather have Edward than a big career in art anyway. What was he so worried about? Unless…

If her Edward jumped forward five years in the future where he came from, the Edward left behind would still know her, right? He'd remember the hammock, the plane ride… up against the brick wall in the garden. Because those things happened in 2004… _her_ time. Not in the future. Surely he'd remember…

Wouldn't he?

"You okay back there?"

She hummed at him, her lips on his skin just because she loved the way he smelled. When he shivered, she touched the back of his neck with her tongue to see if he tasted just as good, hoping he'd shiver again… she liked the way he reacted to her. Tasting led to licking which led to lightly sucking and she forgot all about him in a way, rapt in the sweet saltiness of him, the way the slide of his muscles felt under her tongue as he moved. She smiled against him, her teeth grazing his shoulder when he surprised her by spinning her around so that they were pressed chest to chest, keeping the same fast pace toward the cabin. Her arms were still around his neck, but the foiled birds thumped his back now. Then she almost dropped them because two seconds later he had his own tongue in her mouth.

"Fuck, Bella," he gasped when he broke away for a moment to make sure he wasn't about to walk into a tree. "Keep doing that and we won't make it to the cabin."

She giggled a little. "Let me down," she said, "let me walk," and dropped the hold she had around his waist with her legs. He stopped and allowed her to slide herself down his body, hissing when she rubbed up against him. Accidentally.

Right.

"We're here anyway," he smiled down the path at their front door. "Are you hungry? It's probably still warm." He took the little wrapped dinners from her hand, tugging her up the cobbled steps, before disappearing to the kitchen.

"Well…" she said slowly, as she walked through the doorway, "I guess I could eat." The romantic scene of shedding clothes, kissing and more declarations of love as soon as they hit the porch seemed to be slipping away with every passing second. She wanted… well, she wanted _him_. She wanted Edward to make love to her but getting those words to come out of her mouth was really a lot harder than she thought it'd be. Should she just… say it? Ask him? Her mother always said that men could be dense but Bella fairly certain that sex would be something he'd want. Maybe she should just wait for him to make a move. Or let things progress naturally. But if sex was anything like the rose garden a few minutes ago… then good god. Those books were right. And she was ready for more.

With Edward making himself busy in the kitchen, Bella slipped her sandals off and wandered through the rooms toward the bathroom, since she hadn't really _gone_ before, only stared at herself in the mirror. She was still a little shaky from _that_ revelation, but pushed it aside. Things were different now, she thought, looking for a fresh pair of underwear. And they'd be different from now on.

Her purse trilled from the bed where'd she'd left it and she paused, hand on the bathroom doorknob, remembering that Edward had dropped his phone in there before they'd left the restaurant. She grabbed it, striding toward the kitchen.

"Edward?" she called, coming down the hallway. "Your phone is ringing."

"My hands are wet," he called back, muffled. "Answer it before it goes to voicemail—it's just my Uncle. I've already missed him one time tonight."

Bella had the phone open before he'd stopped talking.

"Hello?"

A long pause, then another girl's voice pierced the silence with all the delicacy of a freight train behind schedule. Carrying explosives. While the conductor was lighting up, not caring where the match might land.

"Is this Edward's phone?"

"Um, yes. Can I ask who's calling?"

"This is his _girlfriend_. Who the fuck is this?"

* * *

**oooh, evil Tanya... *shakes fist***

**If you're confused, intrigued, irritated, etc., etc., about the complexities of Firefly time travel come ask a question on the Twilighted thread... I'll try my best to answer, I promise. Without giving too much away. :) And I do Monday teasers! Link on my author profile.  
**

**Getting the hang of Facebook... primarycolors fanfic**

**and we can always be Tweetie friends- primarycolors1**

**Have a great weekend! See you next Friday.  
**


	28. I Love You

**Love to my quick-on-the-draw girls faireyfan and les16. We had fun with this one, I think. :)**

**I don't own Twilight. Any mistakes you find belong to me. Thank you for reading!**

* * *

Edward had a bad feeling as soon as he turned and caught the blank look on Bella's face. He strode forward, wiping his hands on his shirt.

Wide-eyed, she stared back at him as she braced herself against the doorjamb, the phone pressed to her ear. "Um, yes. Can I ask who's calling?"

_Oh hell._ He held out his hand desperately, wiggling his fingers, the universal sign for _gimme gimme, now now now._

But she was frozen, waiting for the caller to identify themselves, and he contemplated just snatching it out of her hand and shoving her out of the room so he could take care of this. Because he had a pretty good idea of who it was. And it was not someone he wanted her to have to deal with.

Nearby, the microwave beeped. He vaguely noticed her shorts were unbuttoned, zipper half-way down. His eyes snapped back up to her face as soon as that voice came over the line, loud enough for him to hear too.

"_This is his girlfriend. Who the fuck is this?" _Edward winced, the shrillness all too familiar.

_Fucking Tanya._

"Bella," he hissed, holding his hand out.

She handed it over mutely, the daggers in her eyes spearing him right in the gut.

"Hello," he muttered darkly, holding Bella's gaze, willing her to stay with him. He reached out to touch her but she stepped away. Anger twisted through his veins. Of all the things that could come between them, fate, destiny, _death_… Tanya Denali was damn sure not going to be a part of that list.

"Edward!" Tanya's voice in his ear had the effect of throwing ice water down his back.

"Tanya," he snapped out, "let's get one thing straight. We aren't together, at all. We never will be. You can't claim I've gotten you pregnant because we haven't slept together, so go try that bullshit on somebody else. Don't ever call this number again. Do you understand?"

As he spoke low into the phone he moved toward Bella. Her hands were fisted at her sides as she stared at him, pale except for bright spots of color high on her cheeks. She watched him as his eyes crawled down her body, lingering on the tiny shadows cast by the hard tips of her breasts, poking through the thin cotton of her t-shirt, the half open state of her shorts, where his slippery slick fingers had been moving back and forth earlier that evening. He heard himself breathe hard into the phone, and his hand flexed, aching to feel her again.

The click of Tanya hanging up on him barely registered; he'd already forgotten all about her. Because he wasn't speaking to her anymore. The phone was still held to his mouth, but his words were for the trembling girl in front of him.

"I belong to someone else. I'm hers. Completely." He ran a single fingertip under the waistband of her panties, then up, circling her belly button before he went even higher under her shirt, brushing her against her breast. "Heart. Mind. Body and soul…" he murmured, leaning across to touch his forehead to hers. He kissed her gently and the phone dropped to the floor.

She smiled and ran her fingers over the front of his shorts, making him quiver.

"Yeah, and that part too," he groaned. "Oh, fuck."

In her little explorations over the fabric of his shorts she'd discovered a raised band near the end of his length and circled over it curiously, her heart leaping when he reacted. His face was full of gathering thunderclouds, threatening and wild. He loomed over her until she realized that if she pressed down hard and raked her nails over the hard bumpy parts he'd actually whimper and flutter his eyes.

She liked this power. "Who was that, Edward," she asked, pausing in her massage until he answered. "Your girlfriend?"

"No, nono," he gasped, grinding himself into her hand, an eager puppy begging for a scratch on the nose. "Tanya. I dated her in the other life… damn," he groaned as she squeezed him. "Before… before I knew you. She was a psycho bitch. …Ah _god_, are you sure you've never done this before?"

"You were pretty rude to her on the phone."

"I know," he groaned. His head was about to explode with the way she was touching him. "She doesn't really respond to anything else. Trust me, if I'd been even remotely… ah, fuck, right _there_… remotely… remotely…"

"Yes?"

"…uh if I'd been nice at all she'd have thought she had a chance. Bedroom, Bella. Now."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"Bella, at this particular point in time what you're touching right now has never been near that girl. We only went out once." He pushed her backward through the doorway. "Bedroom, go," he said again.

She nodded, focused on making Edward produce as many interesting noises as possible. "I want to see… it. Can I see it? Edward?"

A split second later he was fumbling with his belt and zipper, even as he laughed, teasing her like the idiot he was. "What do you want to see exactly, Bella? It?" Only you didn't tease the girl who wanted to fondle your cock. All you said was _yes, please_ and _harder_. But this was Bella, and he couldn't _not_ push his luck a little. It was the way they operated.

"I don't know what to call it…" she blushed and faltered. "And you're being mean. You know I'm a little shy," she whispered with a smirk, pulling her hand away.

"Good god, you're evil, don't stop." He grabbed her wrist, pushing her palm down. "You can call it whatever you want," he grinned, "just don't stop."

She walked backward into the bedroom, giggling when he followed, docile and at her mercy, shedding clothes along the way. "What about dinner? The microwave beeped."

"Oh, you're really funny. Off, please" he begged, tugging at her shirt. "You see me, I see you. That's the way this is going to work." He tickled her sides, hands sliding up over her ribs, her bra, finally throwing her shirt behind him on the floor. "You're the only thing I want to eat right now."

She gasped at his words, making him chuckle as he pushed her lightly onto the bed.

"You're blushing everywhere," he smiled down at her. "You're all pink." He stood in the V of her legs, as the rest of her lay flat on the white bedspread. She was stunning, arms and dark hair flung out wild on the sides, some strands over her neck, her cheeks, like every part of her was all in a tizzy and didn't know which way to go. She was breathing hard through her mouth, her chest surging up and down.

"God, you're beautiful, so beautiful."

"Now what?" she whispered.

"Your bra," he said hoarsely, "take it off." He watched her intently and she suddenly felt as if she were performing in the biggest Broadway show. Naked. Forgetting her lines.

_And in her acting debut, the role of Mousy Virgin Girl Who Pretends To Be Sexy will be played by Isabella Swan!_

She sat up just enough to unhook it in the back then paused, attacked by a severe case of nerves. Suddenly every lamp in the room seemed to be blazing, spotlight bright.

"Can we, ah… turn off some of the lights- is that okay? It's just really…" She chewed her lip and wondered how fast she could scramble under the covers. Where was that brave girl that had just touched Edward through his pants? Now everything just seemed… premeditated. This was it though wasn't it? A milestone, that significant intimate moment with The Right Person. S-E-X. And she _so_ wasn't a big fan of pain.

She made it under the sheet, underwear and bra still in place. Well, bra was sort of in place. Goosebumps traveled across her naked shoulders and she settled back against the pillow. Pulling the sheet up, she tucked it under her arms, the way they did in Days of Our Lives. Not that she watched shows like that.

Meanwhile, Edward scrambled around the room, clicking off lights. He was in his underwear, his erection poking out in front, bouncing and bobbing around when he walked. It was really kind of funny. It wasn't easy holding in a giggle, but she did, thinking that guys probably didn't like girls laughing at their you-know-whats.

Of course he caught her peculiar smile as he made his way back over to the bed.

"What," he laughed, raising his eyebrows, not embarrassed about being in his underwear at all, even when her eyes kept going to that part sticking out. Oh god, if he wiggled around much more it might even poke out through that little flap! Holy crow, had she even blinked in the last 30 seconds? She forced herself to look at his face, ignoring his smug little smirk.

"Nothing!" She smiled at him widely. "I'm on birth control… for girl reasons. So it's okay. You know, if you want to go bareback."

"_Bareback?"_ His eyebrows crawled further up his hairline.

"Or maybe not," she amended quickly. "I have condoms too. Lots of sizes. Whatever you want. And I'm clean. Um, obviously." Her brow furrowed. "But I guess that won't matter if we use condoms," she murmured. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Okay…" he said slowly. "Well, you've certainly thought all this out." He rubbed his hand over his chin, looking at her thoughtfully. "What have you been reading?"

She frowned at him. "Don't make fun. I'm just being prepared. That's all."

Sighing, he closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them up, it was like he was seeing her for the first time. She could read it all on his face.

_She's only Seventeen._

_Scared._

_Needy._

_Virgin._

_Handle with Care._

Bella narrowed her eyes. Seriously? He came all this way, through _time_, and he wasn't even going to go all the way with her?

"Bella… I don't know if we should. I mean… it's your first time and everything," he said awkwardly. "I kind of thought we'd do other stuff… you know. Besides, I don't know how I feel about taking that and then leaving. It's not really fair to you."

"Taking _what_," she asked flatly.

"Your uh… you know. Your virginity."

"You should let _me_ decide that, Edward. And why do people always talk about virginity as something you take? I'm _giving_ it to you. It's something I _want_ to give to you."

"Whoa now, hold on…"

"And one more thing. You seriously want me to wait around for you, stay a pristine little virgin for the next five years? You listen to me, Edward Cullen. If you don't accept this _gift_ I'm giving you, I'll find somebody else who won't be afraid to take it."

That did it. Something dark crawled over his face and he clambered onto the bed, on his knees, leaning over her. Heat poured off him, she could feel it, see it in his eyes, fury and desire churning, humming, pricking her heart.

"Goddammit Bella, do you really think I don't know you well enough to see what you're doing? I _know_ you. You've known me for two days; I've known you for a goddammed-fucking year. You're scared of this, of _all_ this, I get that. You don't think I'm terrified you'll find someone else during those five years? I could go back to 2009 and look you up and find you married to some asshole."

She was already shaking her head. "No," she choked out, eyes shiny with tears. "I wouldn't."

"You seriously think I don't want to fuck you all over this cabin for two days straight just so you won't forget me? Or-or-or that I don't want to make love to you for hours and hours… to worship you like you deserve so I can show you how much I love you?"

"Edward…" she sobbed.

"I just…" he rubbed his face vigorously, scrubbing away his own sudden wetness. "I just didn't want it to be a goodbye."

"But it _is_… it _is_ goodbye," she cried bitterly. "The truth is, you don't know what will happen. You could go back to where you came from and not know me, since you've changed everything. I could wait five years for you only to find out that you got back with that girl that was on the phone and had a pack of whiny kids just like _her_."

"Shhh… goodbyes aren't forever," he soothed her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. We'll just have to trust each other."

She was crying in earnest now. "I just… I just don't want you to go without sharing that with you." He gathered her up and she clung to his neck fiercely. "I need you. Please. I need you, Edward."

She absolutely loathed begging for anything. She wouldn't have, if she'd really thought about it, but the words had just slipped out. "You said you loved me," she continued in a calmer voice, her breath warm against his chest. "But why?"

He sighed and ran his hand down her hair. "Jesus, you don't pull any punches do you?"

"Why do you love me, Edward?"

"Bella, there are a million reasons, and no reason at all. It just is. I've stopped questioning things, to be honest. Knowing I'm in love with you is the easiest thing about this whole fucked up situation."

Bella closed her eyes. She never wanted to leave this place, this room. His arms.

"The first time I saw you I knew I wanted you. You made me crazy, with this push and pull friendship-flirt thing we had going on. God, you owned me and you never even knew it."

"And now?" she asked, her breath coming faster. She should have known it'd be hard to have a serious conversation with his heart thudding under her ear, the smell of him in her nose. She used to read the kinky sections in her books with one eye closed in disgust, the other wide open in fascination. The raised surface of Edward's nipple was inches from her face… the sight of that feeding the buzz in her head again. She swallowed, giving her mouth something else to do, because right now it really wanted to kiss him there, to see how he felt under her tongue… to see what he would do. Would it feel the same to him? The books absolutely made sense now. Sex… desire… it was all smell and taste and compulsion… the need to feel and be touched… an instinct to connect with him. Strung together with love and friendship and the circle became unbreakable. She moved her head an inch closer, barely able to breathe.

He tensed, and echoed her question, stuttering, "And-and now?"

Strong fingers tightened on her hip when she swiped a cautious tongue over him, sucking lightly when he shuddered and bent his head. His breath was hot on the shell of her ear as he tucked a little of her hair behind it.

"If you're sure," he said in a rough whisper.

She kissed up his neck, hoping she was doing the seducing thing right. "I'm sure."

Nodding once, he slid the tips of his fingers right down her stomach, under the band of her panties, touching her through the short hair, damp, and as he went further, wet. He rubbed the heel of his hand against her, groaning as she closed her eyes and shivered.

"Edward," she gasped, arching, her body remembering how he made her feel in the garden. "I don't want to wait."

He rubbed her lightly, watching her face.

"I know it'll hurt, I know, it's okay." She pulled him to her, hands in his hair, kissed his mouth, down his neck again. Sweet, salty Edward, this is what excitement tasted like, the flavor of love across his jaw. "I'm ready," she whispered into his ear.

He pulled his hand out of her underwear, sat back and looked at her. "So where's this overabundance of condoms you brought?" he asked with a teasing smile. He let her go completely and lay back on the pillow, folding his arms behind his head. "Go pick a winner, Swan."

The blush raged over her chest and neck. "You're going to watch me walk across the room practically naked?" she huffed. "A gentleman would go get it himself."

"I turned out most of the lights, just like you wanted," he grinned. "In a few minutes I'll be inside you, Bella; your propriety's about to fly out the window."

"Fine," she said lightly, hopping off the bed, ignoring the wetness in her panties. She shimmied out of her bra and tossed it at him, pulling out all the stops. If he wanted to watch, she'd give him a show.

By the time she sauntered back, several multicolored choices in hand, he was up on his elbow, staring, his eyes missing nothing. "You are so _slow_. Come _here_." As soon as she got close enough to the edge of the bed, he reached out and grabbed her, flushed, giggling, and flipped her beneath him.

"Is this okay?" he murmured, not waiting for a reply as he kissed her mouth with soft nibbling licks, groaning into her when she pressed an answer with her fingers on the back of his head.

A few minutes later he'd caused her to drop a few rungs down the evolutionary ladder, as his mouth paid attention to her breasts, his hips in a slow but forceful grind, making the bed frame creak with every pass. Her head was in the clouds somewhere, disconnected from her own body as she alternately flashed hot and cold. She pressed herself into him, needing more, growing inattentive in her kisses as she gasped for air.

She opened her eyes to find him watching her, warm, liquid mercury green, a summer storm over the water, silver-gray and sunlight battling for the afternoon. He curled his hand up over her throat, rubbing his fingers over her thrumming pulse, holding her gaze until he bent his mouth back to her chest.

She cried out, arching, as he moved to turn her fully on her back. A part of her realized that they were completely intertwined, her arms around his neck, their legs tangled together, one of his hands in her hair, the other on her lower back, and the hot wetness of his mouth over the hard points of her breasts. The thought that they would make a beautiful picture flitted dazedly through her mind.

Edward had never uttered the words _make love_ before tonight; it'd always been _sex_ or _fucking_ or the all-encompassing generic _do it_. But if anyone deserved those beautiful words it was Bella. He was making an effort to go slow; he was determined to make this good for her.

And then she spoke.

Her eyes had fluttered shut, savoring the way he ran his lips and tongue around the bare skin of her stomach when she breathed, "Are you going to put that thing on? Or I can. If you want me to… you know. Do you need scissors to open the package? I have some little tiny ones in a pocket in my suitcase."

He paused, his mouth over the dip of her navel. She stilled her twining fingers on his head, heart aching under the rush of emotion. Good god, she should never, _ever_ open her mouth when she was nervous. The intimacy of his breath against her skin, the rough caress of his jaw made her quiver while she waited for him to say something. She finally glanced down to catch a flare of hazy green as his lashes lifted. "If I want you to… what?" he asked with an irritating little smirk.

She watched as he crawled up her body, draping himself over her, enjoying the hitch in his breath as she tightened her legs around the hard thigh he had shoved where she ached and pulsed, where some unknown instinct was compelling her to move because the little bursts of pleasure were so exquisite. He lay on his side and propped his head up with his hand, moving in swiftly for a kiss before he pulled back again to see her face. His other hand traced warm circles on her hip. "I'll show you," he said with a slow smile. He brought her hand up to kiss her fingers, holding her eyes with his. "I'll show you how to touch me, like I touch you." Leaning in once more he murmured, "Will you let me?" using his teeth gently on her jaw. "Maybe… after. We have all night."

_Holy fucking crow._

She could feel him smile against her neck at her jerky nod. His entire body seemed to shudder and sigh as he sucked on her lower lip before instigating a lazy tangling of their mouths. "I love you," he mumbled. "I love you so much." He wiggled out of his underwear and pressed himself, hot, smooth, hard against her thigh, moaning as he sucked her nipple into his mouth before sitting up on his knees.

He was beautiful, she thought, as she watched the slide and play of the muscles in his chest bunch and relax as he reached for a condom. Joy tickled over her, and she couldn't help the blushing smile that crossed her face as he watched her study him. He grinned back, and the wildness of his hair made him seem so very boyish and sweet. The way he trembled when he reached for her hand gave her courage to bend up and kiss his stomach while she ran her fingers along the length of him.

"What feels good?" she whispered over his cock, her breath tickling. "Will it hurt if I squeeze you?"

"No," he said hoarsely, a small surprised cry bursting out of him when she suddenly licked him along the ridge she'd been so fascinated with in the kitchen. He needed to pull her away before she was educated in the art of premature ejaculation. Holy _fuck_.

"Bella, you need to stop before you make me come all over you."

"Really?" She grinned up at him with what could only be described as triumph. Hell, she was getting him back for making her walk across the room, topless. Evil, evil girl.

"Now you," he said, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he pulled her underwear over her legs and ankles, tossing them to the side. He immediately gathered her in his arms, curving down her to press his mouth over hers. With every inch of her skin flushed fever-hot with sensation, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself against the hard plane of his chest, sighing in pleasure.

"You're amazing," he said, voice hoarse against her shoulder, the emotional toll of _everything_ catching up to him. "I'll go slow."

Her thighs fell open and suddenly he was there, nudging himself inside. It felt good, really good, because he was in a little and then he'd run himself around the outside of her, hot, slick, over that place that made her eyes roll back in her head.

And then he was back in and it didn't feel so good. It burned and hurt and she thought that maybe she'd read the books wrong. There was supposed to be a flash of pain and then pleasure. Magic. There were supposed to be orgasms all around, right?

"Are you in?" she asked, breathless, wincing. "All the way?"

He went motionless over her, eyes wide. "Ah… no. But only just a little more, okay?"

"It's okay."

"Relax, sweetheart."

"Don't stop."

"Okay."

She looked up at him, worried. He looked like he was in pain too, trembling, flushed.

"Oh, is this hurting you too?" Tears pricked her eyes. She just _knew_ she'd end up doing it wrong. "Should we try again later?" Maybe after she ran to the bookstore and bought _Sex for Dummies_. She frowned when he started to laugh.

"It's not hurting me," he whispered, kissing her jaw. "I'm about to come just from being halfway inside." He held her face between his hands, stoking her cheeks with his thumbs.

"You are?" This was it? She whimpered when he pulled out slightly and then finally pushed all the way inside her.

He held himself there and closed his eyes, not believing how far they'd come. Her heart fluttered madly in her chest and he felt it everywhere… under his lips as he kissed the pulse in her neck, around his cock, pushed to the hilt, warm, tight, wet… and in his own heart, beating with hers, _for_ her, in a secret language for only them to know. He dropped his forehead down to hers.

"Bella, oh god, Bella," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I love you, beautiful girl." He stroked twice more before going completely rigid, breath suspended, everything concentrated on the rhythmic pulses deep inside her as he came, shuddering.

"Oh…" she breathed, watching the emotion play out over his face. It was worth it. She hoped it wouldn't always hurt like this but if it did it was still worth it. For him it would always be worth it.

He collapsed on top of her, groaning, and she held on to him fiercely. He was hers now. And she was his. She bit her lip to stop the trembling but the tears started against her will. He couldn't leave her. She wouldn't be able to live without him.

"I love you," she whispered, "Oh, I love you."

* * *

***fans self***

**I know you have questions... you're supposed to.**

**The biggest question is whether Edward will remember Bella once he jumps back to 2009. He will. He'll remember absolutely everything. The curse of the time traveler, remember? Memories cannot be erased, even if the events he "remembers" will now never happen. With me?**

**The more important question is what will happen to the Edward left behind in 2004 after his 2009 mind goes back to where it belongs. Right? Of course, there has to be an Edward to go back to Dartmouth, graduate, fight with his dad, go live in NYC and work at the ad agency. Will _that_ Edward remember these few days spent with Bella? That's a harder question. Right now this Edward doesn't know what will happen. Thank goodness Dr. Shan has a theory.**

**Until next week... thank you guys for being so absolutely wonderful. Especially all those that wished me a Happy Birthday! Hugs and Kisses to all!**


	29. The Truth

**Wow, so sorry guys. I've never missed posting day before... well, once, but that was in the midst of a natural disaster. I won't bore you with details but it's been a crazy week for me. I did manage to put up two Firefly outtakes (go to my profile to find Firefly Rarities) ...I think you'll find they add a little something to this story. They were written for Fandom4SAA and Fandom4Storms. :)**

**Hugs and kisses to les16. Thank you, bb.**

* * *

He was an asshole, he thought, curling himself around her back. Not only did he hurt her, but he'd come in 2.3 seconds, probably the fastest anyone _ever_, in the history of the _world_, had had an orgasm. So scratch that first thought. He wasn't merely an asshole; he was the biggest asshole of all time. He should've made her come first; he should've gone down on her, why didn't he think of that? Now her first time was gone. Over. And he couldn't give it back.

There were so many things he could do to make it up to her, he thought with a little forced optimism, flipping through a mental list of positions. And then there was always that whirlpool tub in the bathroom… He closed his eyes and breathed in her hair, willing his body to roll off the bed and go clean himself up.

He was wondering if she might finally be hungry when he caught her faint mumble into the darkness of the room, tears all over her voice. His arm was wet where she was laying… oh _god,_ she was crying. What a Neanderthal he was.

"Bella." He turned her over so he could look at her in the faint wash of silver coming in through the skylight. He pulled the sheet over her bare body, sensing her vulnerability, brushing the tear tracks from her cheeks with his fingers. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Really. I can't take it." He chanced a small smile, hoping to get one in return.

"Sorry." She buried her face in his neck, sniffing wetly. "It's just so much." Her naked back tensed, then shuddered.

"Listen, I know that wasn't…" he started and stopped, the perfect words difficult to find, "uh, the best experience, but I- I promise I'll make it up to you… if you'll let me. Okay? Just don't… cry." He kissed the top of her head, holding her close. "Please."

She sniffed one last time before drawing back, wiping her eyes. "Edward_, no."_

"But-"

"Hush. I was just overwhelmed, in a _good_ way."

Edward was confused but he nodded anyway. It would be just like her to cry silently from pain and then pass it off as some kind of emotional outlet. But it was nothing to argue about. All in all, it was better than the first time he'd rocked her to an orgasm in Uncle Pete's chair back in Summerside. Crying was definitely a step up from a panic attack.

"What was it like… before?" she asked softly. "I wish I could remember those times. With you. When we… made love." Shyly, she looked up into his face, struck anew by the beauty of him, amazed that he wanted to belong to her. He looked troubled at what she'd said though, and she smoothed her thumb over the line between his eyebrows, an electric tingle sparking up her arm, knowing that she could touch him however she wished. Whenever she wished. He was hers. She'd _made_ him hers.

She couldn't rub the line away though, and it grew even deeper when he said, "We never did. I mean… I think we would have worked up to that but…" His voice faded and he sighed, like he was squaring up to face an unpleasant task.

"Except that I died," she whispered, a shiver crawling up her spine despite her best efforts to view this weird alternate reality thing… _situation_ as a story, a dream, something that happened to someone else that merely looked like her. "You never told me how it happened…"

_Me. Dying._

She bit at her lip. "I thought that maybe I didn't want to know but I think I do."

"You drowned," Edward said flatly, with no preamble. "You went out alone on a red flag day and you drowned." He released her abruptly, and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "I'll be right back," he mumbled, sliding off the bed and heading toward the bathroom.

When he came out a few moments later she was sitting up in bed, pale, protecting herself with pajamas and crossed arms. He smiled inwardly when she blushed at his nakedness, but took pity on her and grabbed his boxers before climbing back under the covers. He supposed she had the right idea anyway. Talks about death and assault and suicide weren't really naked-cuddly conversation material.

"Why would I do that? I wouldn't do that. I mean… either one of those things by themselves isn't that big of a deal- I've been out on a red flag day before… but I can't believe I'd do both together." Her hands twisted together, her eyes darting around the room as if the answers lie hidden in the shadows. "I wonder what happened," she murmured. "I guess I was caught in a current." Edward waited until she looked back at him. He had part of the key to the mystery but knowing the whys didn't make anything easier. He threaded his fingers through hers.

"You've got to understand, Bella. Two nights ago, I wasn't there… down at the water by the boat dock. Emmett wasn't there. You and your sister were …attacked."

"What does that have to do with me drowning? I don't want to talk about two nights ago," she said crossly, pulling away. When he allowed the silence to stretch on for several minutes she huffed and scowled, hugging her arms around herself.

"You're saying I was… she was... raped. By…" she swallowed audibly. "By… all-?"

"Yeah," he whispered, crushing her to his chest when her eyes filled with tears. She didn't let him hold her long though. Only a few seconds passed before she pushed him away and wrapped her arms back around herself, visibly attempting to control her emotions.

"That future is gone, Bella."

"I know. But I want to know the rest, Edward. Everything. I want to know why you think me swimming in the ocean came from what happened that night."

He hesitated. "There's more. But…"

"It's okay, I can take it. Tell me."

"Just… give me a minute." His fists clenched. "Your sister was attacked the same as you. Those assholes beat you up, broke your nose… they even…" he paused, gathering his thoughts.

"Oh god, what?" she asked, squeezing herself tighter with one arm, reaching up to touch her nose with her trembling hand. Just remembering was enough to spur the pulse of adrenaline through her veins. It made her dizzy even though the danger had long passed.

"Nothing, nothing," he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands like a little boy, taking his time before he continued. "Your sister didn't want to deal."

She considered him for a long moment. "Not surprised."

"She… Rosie told you to not… talk about it."

"You mean after we went to the police?"

"You didn't go. You never told anyone."

She just shook her head, eyes wide.

"It—that night completely changed your life. You lost your scholarship," he said hoarsely. "Phil said it was like you dropped off the face of the earth. You didn't return phone calls; you didn't come home for Christmas. Rosie took time off from school… told your mom that the both of you had been in a car accident. To… you know, explain the bruises and…"

She nodded, a silent plea to continue. She looked sick.

"You went home for Easter because your mom threatened you with something, Phil didn't know what… but you finally went. Your mom blamed you for what was wrong with your sister, because you wouldn't speak to her. She thought you guys were in some kind of fight… and that was the reason for your sister being so out of it."

Bella's lips pursed tight, her hands fisted at her sides as she stared at Edward. She laughed jaggedly. "Typical. God, that's so _typical_ of Rosie to lie and blame me to make herself look better. And so typical for my own mother to not even call to ask me what was going on!" Her voice was more emphatic with every sentence. "Poor little _Rosie_! With the world out to get her!"

"Shh… Bella." He made soothing noises, laced with a hint of… disapproval? "Your sister was messed up. She had no one to talk to either."

"That's her fault. You don't know her like I do. I'm sure she did it all on purpose for reasons known only to her."

"She killed herself that weekend, Bella. With sleeping pills that belonged to you."

"What?" she whispered in disbelief. "No…"

"Phil said you stormed out after this big fight with your sister up in your room. You came down crying and just left without a word. Your mom said your sister was fine that night but found her the next morning… she had to call 911 when she wouldn't wake up." He looked miserable, telling her these things.

"Oh my god, oh my god, she would never… would she? She wouldn't, she wouldn't…" Bella's eyes were huge as she tried to imagine a world without her sister. "But she's so _beautiful_. She has perfect grades… so many friends. Everything is so easy for her. Why? Why would she do that?"

"I don't know, sweetheart." His green eyes soothed her, an anchor in this. Navigation of her puzzling family had always been hard. "Maybe Rosie thought she could handle everything and realized she couldn't. I don't know."

"My mom… what did she do?"

Edward sighed. "I could never understand this… and it was hard for Phil too. But your mom… your mom blamed you, I think, a little. And pretty much cut you out of her life."

Bella nodded, staring into space. Evidently this made sense to her.

"When I met you, in 2009, you had no one… you were absolutely alone." He curved his fingers around the nape of her neck, stroking his thumb gently across her skin.

"That sounds sad," she murmured in a small voice.

His heart caught at the emotion in that simple statement. "You were weighed down with all this guilt. I don't think you'd ever really dealt with any of it. I was the first person you told about that night at the party. It was hard for you to do. And that was all you told me. I had to find the rest out from your stepfather."

"The rest… you mean about my sister."

"Yes. I tracked him down after you died."

"Do you think… when I went out swimming. Edward, tell me I wasn't suicidal. I just... can't believe I'd ever do that. Not if," she blushed, "I mean, not if I had _you_ to look forward to everyday."

"You weren't suicidal. I shouldn't have said it like that when we were in the garden earlier. I've never really thought that. You were happy. And with time you would have put everything that happened behind you... or... you said one time that you'd put what happened to you in a box high up on a shelf. High enough that you couldn't reach, or see it. But you said you always knew it was there; you were constantly aware of where it was sitting, gathering dust. And that you took special care not to walk under it, in case it was tempted to tumble off and hit you on the head." He tilted his head at her, amused, loving her and all her many analogies.

They both laughed.

"This is so weird, because that sounds like something I would say."

"You _did_ say it. I know it's hard to wrap your head around."

"I guess," she shrugged, sighing. "Sometimes it doesn't feel like we're talking about me."

"You've taken all this pretty well, I think," he laid back, bringing her with him. "And it was easier than I thought. I know it feels like I'm talking about a different person, when I talk about when I knew you before. But you really are the same." He smiled. "When I knew you before… you were everything I never knew I wanted… and everything I ever needed. But there were parts of her I could never reach. Maybe with time… but I'll never know. But now, seeing you, now I can see you in her." He squeezed her hand. "When she was happy and content. Confident. She'd been so strong when she had to be but it had worn her away, little by little. Until she was like… I don't know, one of your watercolor washes. Fragile. Sad. Like… trees in November. But beautiful though, she was so beautiful she made me ache inside. But you, you're like those damn French oil paints she made me order. They were all bright and vibrant… rich, full of life and possibilities. You can do anything you want to do. That, more than anything, was why I think I was able to come back to save you. Not for me. It was so you could live. The world is a much better place with you in it, Bella."

"But why did I go in by myself Edward?" she persisted. "Why didn't I take you with me?"

Edward looked at her for a long, long moment, before raising his hand to touch her cheek. "It was how you were able to deal. You swam. Even when it was below freezing, you were in the god dammed water." His hurt and pain in his expression was clear to see. "I couldn't begin to comprehend it. It was a compulsion you had. It cleared your head, I don't know."

Bella closed her hand over his wrist, feeling his pulse, steady and strong. She felt a flare of understanding, an echo of truth so faint it flitted away as soon as she tried to grasp it. The water _did_ clear her head… swimming did that for her, but she couldn't imagine using it as some form of self-therapy. And swimming in below-freezing water? Insane. Her fingers played lightly along the inside of his arm. She smiled when Edward shivered and closed his eyes, allowing her hand to skate up the line of his neck into his hair, gently pulling until he rested on her chest, her fingers scratching, combing gently through the messiness on top of his head.

"One time…" he continued, "one time you'd had the flu. And you were so weak, but it was important to you, _for_ you to get out there. So I carried you down the beach and into the surf. I never let you go. And in the water, I could see the waves just… wash away the anxiety that had built up inside your head."

"I'm sorry you had to put up with that."

"I loved you." He lifted his head and kissed the blushing skin of her chest above the line of the sheet. "I love you now, past, present, future. I would do anything for you; you've got to know that. I kinda suck at words… weird, I know, since I'm supposed to be a writer and everything… but when it comes to you, whatever I feel never comes out of my mouth the right way."

"You say everything the right way, Edward. Besides, there's not really any right or wrong when it comes to us." A heartbreaking smile crept over her face.

"You're right," he smiled back. "There's only us and that whirlpool tub in the bathroom."

"Oh?" she squeaked.

"Yes… oh…" he grinned as he tugged the sheet down.

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**Thanks for reading! Some were upset by the A/N at the end of the previous chapter... that it was spoilerish. I didn't say anything new, however... only reminding you of certain things that had already been said during the course of the story. That being said, it's probably wise I say nothing else. **zips lips** :)**

**Except, see you next Friday.**


	30. Bridge

**Happy Friday :) Thanks for reading, guys! I'm so thankful that you've stuck with me this far.**

**Many, many thanks to faireyfan and les16. They're simply amazing.**

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She was dreaming. It was one of those weird dreams… a memory, but not, because she knew she was asleep and curled up beside Edward, yet here she was with Rosie on the old abandoned bridge out in the country, where the high school kids came to drink and smoke and make out. She stood barefoot in her little strappy nightgown, the shadow of the silver maple hanging over the side of the cliff, dappling and moving the sunlight around on the wood. She'd only been here once in her life. Because frankly, once had been enough. Bella's stomach rolled as she was held captive (trapped, in that strange way only dreams can do), helplessly watching as two opposing forces clashed. Sisters. Oil and water, fire and ice, and she relived the inevitable ache at the same time.

"Just jump already, scaredy cat," Rosie hissed to her little sister, manicured fingers on bikini hips, lip-gloss still perfect, even though she'd been swimming in the river for what felt like hours. How did she _do_ that?

"I am! I am!" Bella shrieked, holding her hands up. "You better not come near me, Rosie! I'm dead serious." Her toes curled around the edge of the rotten plank, as she nervously looked down at the water, praying that the boards of the bridge were held together with more than kudzu and spider webs.

"I'm gonna tell Travis to come over here and pick you up and just throw you in. You're such a baby," the bigger girl sighed in exasperation. "It's _completely_ embarrassing."

"You'd better not! I'll tell, I _swear_ I'll tell and then you'll be in trouble." Bella narrowed her eyes and tried to look threatening, as much as a thirteen year-old in a Snoopy one-piece swimsuit could look. She fisted her hands and glared, bared her teeth. She would have snarled if she'd thought it would come out the right way.

"There's no other way off this bridge, stupid."

"I could climb back down," she begged, "I promise I'll be careful."

"Nope. You can climb up, but it's impossible to climb down." The smugness in Rosie's voice made Bella want to slap her across the face. Hard. In fact, she wouldn't be opposed to being the cause of a horrible, nasty uncontrollably bloody nose.

"I could try," she said stubbornly, more willing to risk her neck scrambling down the huge wet rocks then she was willing to jump off into oblivion. "Why don't you go first and I'll come down after? I just don't want to go with you watching, you know?" Bella chattered away, stalling for time. She eyed the birds roosting in the tall trees behind Rosie's head, wishing she were one of them so she could fly away… away from this decision to jump or not to jump. Or maybe a magic paintbrush, to paint a trapdoor to another world, a mystical portal to a land where there weren't mean sisters and sky-high bridges. This wasn't the place for her, anyway. It felt wrong. All the kids here were older, high school aged. It made her uncomfortable.

"How can you be such a good swimmer and be afraid to jump off a bridge? It's like a high dive, Bella." Rosie edged closer, hands behind her back. "Come on, you can do it," she smiled sweetly.

"I don't _do_ high dives, you _know_ that," Bella yelled, even though her sister was only a few feet away, and closing fast. It didn't matter that Rosie had an innocent look on her face, or that she'd moved her hands from behind her back and held them out to the side in the classic, _hey, you know I'd never hurt you, right?_ pose. Panic welled up and Bella whispered, the air in her chest gone. "Please don't push me, Rosie, _please, please_."

Indecision flickered in Rosie's eyes for only a moment before she shifted her gaze at something unknown and seemingly monstrous behind her little sister, a fake, dramatic gasp bursting from her mouth.

It was instinctive. Bella looked over her shoulder and then she was suddenly falling, falling, her breath so frozen in her lungs that she couldn't even scream on the way down.

"Why did you do that?" Older Bella asked from the shadows, more than a bit surprised when Rosie peer over the edge of the bridge, making sure her little sister didn't break her neck in the fall down to the swirling water. She'd always imagined that Rosie had danced around, rubbing her hands together, cackling evilly after her little trick. "You really did push me. That was just so… _mean_," she finished lamely, still feeling tiny despite being older than this barely-sixteen dream Rosie. She crossed her arms over her flimsy nightgown.

Rosie shrugged uncomfortably. "That really _is_ the only way down," she said, glancing at Bella-in-the-shadows. "It's better to just get it over with. Besides, it was silly for you to be scared of something like this. You would have let it paralyze you until you did absolutely nothing."

As Bella pondered this, Rosie walked over and sat in the middle of the bridge, legs crossed under her. So Bella faced her and did the same.

"How could you kill yourself, Rosie?" Bella blurted out. "What could be so bad that you didn't want to live? I know we're not the best of friends but I'm your sister. Why couldn't you come to me? I would have… I would've found a way to help you."

Rosie rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd say that _now_, after you know I'd really do it. If you're so concerned, why don't you wake up right now and give me a call? I'm not dead yet."

When Bella hesitated, Rosie laughed.

"See? It's not so easy. We've really made a mess of things." She stretched her legs out and scratched at a mosquito bite on her knee. "I understand why you wouldn't want to though. I'm sure I'd be a bitch and you'd get mad and hang up." She looked at Bella sadly. "Same old same old, right?"

"What are you trying to tell me? This is still a dream, right? I'm not even really talking to you; it's all in my head. So go ahead and say something profound so I can wake up," Bella grumbled, in truth, still stung over the fact that her sister had indeed pushed her off a bridge.

"What, like I wish you would love me in spite of how I act?"

"You just pushed me off a _bridge_, Rosie. You have to admit, you're making it damn hard to even _like_ you."

"I know. I'm sorry," she said meekly. "I don't know how to get you to love me, to tell you the truth. You've never needed me at all. You never wanted my help, even when we were little. So I tried to be someone you'd admire, thinking that maybe you'd want to be close to me… come ask for advice or something, I don't know. But you never cared about all that stuff. You were happy with just yourself. I don't know _how_ to be someone you love, Sissy."

"How can I believe you, Rosie? You don't even like _yourself_. When Edward said that we were… attacked, you told me we couldn't tell anybody. That must have been horrible… for both of us. Why? Why would you do that to us? Why did I listen to you?

"I just wanted it to go away," she said. Her voice fell through the cracks between the boards, tangled, strangled in the stubborn ivy that criss-crossed underneath. Ivy strong enough to pry rusted bolts out of trusses, strong enough to bring down an entire bridge. Or hold it together. "I messed up," she cried finally, strings of blonde sticking wetly to her cheeks. "I shouldn't have gone down there with Royce in the first place. You came looking for me… don't you see? It was all my fault. My fault. My fault. I couldn't live with that guilt." The boards creaked as she rocked back and forth.

* * *

"Bella? Baby, who're you talking to?" Love rumbled warm and sleepy in her ear, complete with the rasp of his prickly chin against her neck, sending a delicate shiver spiraling through her ribs. She blinked hard, banishing the sun-washed bridge for the silver glow of the moonlight.

She turned in his arms and found the hard edge of his jaw with her lips. The relief of being here instead of in a troubled, scrawny thirteen year-old body was immense, and she felt so weak her head whirled.

"Don't leave, Edward," she begged against the warmth of his neck, in between kisses and tiny bites, testing her teeth on his skin. "I love you. Edward… Edward…" Names were powerful things, she thought. Names were anchors. Maybe if she said his name enough, _loved_ him enough, he would stay. Why couldn't he stay?

She felt a shudder ripple through his body, awake and ready to go before his mind could get there. Bold now, she pressed her hand against the hardness between his legs, wishing she knew a few tricks like he seemed to know, deciding that for now, she'd have to do with sheer brazen fondling.

Edward groaned and rolled around to pull her on top so that she straddled him, her knees tight, trembling on either side of his waist. She wasn't wearing panties under the little nightie she had on. He grinned, languid eyes dark, but definitely awake. "Good morning."

"It's not… oh," she bit her lip, seeing that the silver had indeed turned a little more golden. She couldn't explain how that depressed her. Time was running out. She'd slept away minutes, hours that she could have spent with him talking, laughing… loving. The anguish must have shown on her face because he was suddenly sitting up, holding her face in his hands.

"Everything will be okay, Bella. You have to believe me."

She closed her eyes for an instant, aware that he could see right through her. "I know." She met his gaze, walling up her suddenly vulnerable heart. He had the power to hurt her, badly. "You're leaving tomorrow."

"Yes." A slow nod.

Her heart threatened to break. This moment would be with her forever. His hands, strong, warm on her thighs, holding her against him. The storm glass green of his eyes, resigned. How could he not fight to stay? He wasn't even questioning it. How could he leave her and not look back, after everything he'd said? Didn't he mean it?

He shook his head, like he could read the thoughts running through her mind. "It's not our time, Bella," he whispered, holding his hand flat over her heart. His eyes were sad, but pure, honest, endless. She wanted a lifetime with those eyes. It tore everything up inside of her to voluntarily let him go. She shivered, caught up in the magic of him, of them.

"Love me… will you?" she asked shyly, hurrying to tug the silk off her body before everything crashed open, before the emotion roiling around in her chest threatened to tow her under. She wiped the wetness off her cheeks and took a deep breath.

He looked pained but he kissed her gently. "Always."

* * *

He held her hand as they walked to breakfast. She exclaimed over the sheer beauty of the trees, the sunlight through the leaves, the impossible blue of the sky. The unusual birds, their songs different from what she was used to in Florida. He agreed, to all of it, even though he was blinded to everything but her.

What would she be like in five years? His mind quickly supplied an image of his Summerside Bella… older, checking her towel for dryness on her porch, laughing as she fixed pasta salad in her kitchen, chucking a cherry tomato at his head. How she would make a face when he ate it straight off the floor.

But he just couldn't reconcile that image from his memories with what he knew now to be true, with how he'd altered the future. There would be no hiding in tiny beach towns for _this_ girl, walking beside him. He was proud of her already, for the things he knew she would accomplish, for what she'd become, all on her own. She had a lot of things to see, life to live. She was only seventeen. Fear unfurled inside him, born from the knowledge of how time could and would change things. Change _her_. He watched the wind blow a few rebellious sepia-gold strands across her face, her body moving in and out of the chill morning shadows of the trees.

* * *

"_No, my hair is raw umber," she'd said in a sulky tone. "I've never liked it. Even the name is ugly. Raw umber is great for painting but as a stand alone color it's pretty disappointing."_

"_Well, you're just wrong." They were lying on the floor of her little upstairs studio, the sunlight coming in through the window in the roof. She'd had an old Blues Traveler CD in the player, but it had long stopped, the silence allowing the crash of waves to come in clearly, music in and of itself. His gaze had shifted back and forth between her and the box of paints separating them. He'd pulled out three different tubes of paint and held them up. She'd snatched one, laughing when she read the label._

"_I might be able to see burnt sienna, but alizarin crimson? And gold? No way." _

"_You don't see yourself clearly. Obviously. When the sun hits you just right, I see all that, Bella. Sometimes more." He'd propped himself up on his elbow, leering at her. "In fact, they should make a new color, just for you," he'd said, winking dramatically._

_She'd giggled, finding it hard to stop. "Oh, please! I wasn't built to withstand your cheesy pickup lines. Besides…" she'd been suddenly serious. "You have me already," she'd whispered, blushing but still smiling, as her eyes flirted with his mouth. Her seashell necklace had glittered in the afternoon light._

_It was a week before Valentine's Day. _

"_I don't what I'd call your color of hair," she'd continued, when all he would do was stare at her with a bemused smile. "I'd have to mix it for sure. And it would take weeks to get right." She'd sighed, inching closer to him on the floor._

"_And what would you name it, once you figured it out?" he'd asked, reaching out to trace the silver around her neck._

"_I would name it… Edward," she'd said dreamily._

* * *

"What will you be like in five years?" he mused out loud.

She frowned and dropped his hand, under the guise of fixing her hair.

"You think I'll be so different?" Hesitant words. "From when you knew me before?"

He shrugged; sensing the path of the conversation was killing the happy mood. "Yes and no."

Bella shifted to the side so she could tangle her hand with his, the way they were before she'd pulled away. As he curled his fingers around hers, she wondered at the immense shift in her life since the night of that party. How quickly he had twisted his way around her heart; he had become the most vital part of her existence.

"There's something I've been wanting to ask Dr. Shan… or you." She didn't like the way she sounded so hesitant, so girlish. Maybe she should just say she was staying with him. Tell him how she wasn't leaving. This was her life too.

"What." His hand tightened around her fingers, like he was bracing for a fight.

She lost her courage. "Maybe I'll ask Dr. Shan," she mumbled.

* * *

"Ah, Edward and Bella! Good morning!" Dr. Shan pushed his glasses further on his nose as he stood to meet them, much as he had the night before. "I trust you slept well?"

"Yeah, uh, yes, we did," Edward said, doing a slight double take when he noticed Bella hiding a coy little smile. "Thanks. The cabin is… wow. Awesome," he nodded. "Very nice."

All at once both Bella and Edward looked down and noticed the shocking amount of food piled on the table where Dr. Shan had been sitting. Bella giggled while the doctor blushed.

"Evidently the resort likes to try out new dishes once in a while," his words tumbled over each other as he attempted to explain. "I'm sure I'll be filling out some sort of lengthy survey before I'll be permitted to leave." He chuckled weakly, waving his hand. "I'm sure they do this sort of thing all the time."

"I'm _sure_ they do," Edward grinned. He glimpsed Shan's future wife poke her head out of the kitchen. She wasn't dressed for work but Edward was fairly sure she was behind this. Tina inclined her head by the merest fraction, having caught Edward's glance across the room. It seemed as if events were falling into place. Some things had changed but most things would happen as they were supposed to.

He sat down and helped himself to Eggs Benedict.

After a while, Edward felt a wave of concern, seeing that Bella was strangely quiet. He chalked it up to her being tired, or maybe she was intimidated by all the physics terms Shan was throwing around. She was neither of those things though. She was simply afraid to know the answer to the question that had been twisting her stomach in knots ever since she'd made up her mind that she actually believed in all this Marty McFly business.

Suddenly, right in the middle of the Strawberry Stuffed French Toast she decided she couldn't wait any longer.

"Dr. Shan…" she interrupted. "Just… can you explain something to me? Edward's… body didn't time travel, right?" She turned to Edward. "You woke up in a body that was five years younger… it was your mind that traveled. Right? Edward?"

"Right," Edward said bleakly, because he thought he knew where she was going with this.

"So if that's true, then when your mind goes forward in time, back to 2009, your younger self will be left behind." She smiled at him, shaking her head at his woe-is-me attitude. "Don't you see? We can be together from the beginning. I know you said it wasn't our time—but we can _make_ it our time, Edward. I'll go to Dartmouth with you… I don't know what kind of art program they have but—you know what? I don't even have to go into art. I can do whatever. I can wait table to put myself through… I can-"

"Bella… Miss Swan, I'm afraid it won't work like that." Shan looked troubled. "Granted, Edward is the first legitimate case of time travel I've had the opportunity to study, but if my theory holds…"

"If your theory holds… what?" she asked softly

"If it all happens like I expect it to…"

Edward never liked feeling helpless, but there was nothing he could do as Bella's heart broke right in front of him. "I won't remember you, Bella." Edward said abruptly. "I won't remember these days… with you. Anything at all. It'll be like… lost time. I won't remember you until the day I go back, five years from now."

Bella's eyes filled with tears.

He tried to pull her to him but she wouldn't come. "When I go back to 2009," he said softly, "it should be spontaneous for me. It'll be like falling asleep at night and waking in the morning." He sighed, kissing her fingers, the only part of her she'd let him have right now. "It will take five years for you to catch up."

"I have to go," she mumbled.

* * *

**Thank you for all the sweet reviews you guys leave me throughout the week. I can't answer all of them but I read them all... save them too. It's like my own personal glittery treasure chest.**

**See you next Friday!**


	31. The Promise

**Well, we're winding down I think. I've been told this is a kleenex worthy chapter. But you've come this far, you know? You can do it. **

**A while back, chapters ago, right after Edward jumped back to 2004, my sweet friend spazzzmatazz sent me Tracey Chapman's The Promise. It fit perfectly, SO perfectly with what Edward was going through then. But what she didn't know, and couldn't have known, was that it would also apply to Bella, 15 chapters later. Thank you darling :D**

**It's the perfect song for this story, I think. I've put the lyrics at the end of chapter. Also a link to it on my profile.**

**Thank you as always (doubly this time) to faireyfan and les16. I couldn't do it without them. Any lingering mistakes are all mine.**

**I won't be able to post next week, unless a small miracle occurs. I'm sorry!**

**Also, thank you guys for your reviews :) You're all simply amazing.  
**

* * *

He found her in the resort gift shop, fingering the heavy cotton of the t-shirts. The generic logo of a line art mountaintop was stamped on everything from key chains to baseball hats to shoelaces. When he stood beside her silently, she showed him a bright green shirt proudly proclaiming that Colorado Was For Lovers.

"Thought I'd get you something to _remember_ me by," she said softly, giggling a little at her own joke. Bittersweet. "I'm sorry for running out like that. Where's Dr. Shan?"

"He's leaving tomorrow too. His last meeting is this morning, I think."

She folded the t-shirt and placed it back in the shelf. "You're not coming back to Jacksonville with me are you?"

"Come on, Bella," he sighed, tugging her hair gently. "Let's walk."

"What, like walk and talk? I don't know Edward, that sounds ominous." She was obsessively straightening all five hundred tiny water globes like she worked there. "What other little revelations do you have up your sleeve? I'm not sure I want to know, to tell you the truth."

"You know all my secrets," he said with a smile, holding his arms out.

She finally looked at him. "What do you have there?" Grabbing his hand, she pulled the brochure from his fingers; fully aware she was falling into his little distraction trap.

"Come on," he said again. "Tina's packing a picnic for us for later. Let's go get lost. I know you don't want to spend our last day in a hotel gift shop."

* * *

It took him an hour to work up the courage he needed to finish their conversation from earlier. Before he'd essentially told her that in a few days she'd be the only one to remember them, and what had happened between them, for the next five years. She was amazing, truly, to accept this surreal bullshit at face value, trusting him with her heart, her body. Smiling tentatively at him, she squeezed his hand and tilted her face up to the sun. They walked through the Japanese gardens and wandered among the more rare species of roses before they started the path to the waterfall she'd been looking for.

"Your flight's at 11:15 tomorrow," he said quietly. "Mine's at noon."

Panic came to life, seething, churning. "So how does all this work?" she asked bravely, pulling the elephant in the room to the front and center. She looked off into the woodlands, wondering what would it take to run away into the mountains and live off the land. They could escape together, forget about the rest of the world, exist on berries and mountain streams, talk and laugh and make love all day long. And maybe venture back down occasionally for some resort food. Watching her shoes kick and scuff along the trail, she thought that she should have been a better Girl Scout. She'd barely made it past Brownies. It was just as well though, because if it'd been up to her, she'd probably have killed them both within a week, eating something ridiculously poisonous. Maybe she could find a book on Camping for Dummies.

He was quiet. He hadn't answered yet. She wondered if he would deliberately misunderstand her question.

"Shan said that he thought it'd be instantaneous for me. As long as I went back to my same room at my uncle's house tomorrow, kept things as much the same as possible. I'd go to sleep in 2004, wake up back in 2009." He shrugged.

"Are you ready to go back?" Tentative words.

He looked at her strangely. "No, Bella. I didn't ever want to go back. I'm… I'm scared. What if nothing's changed? What if…" he trailed off, glancing over at her.

_What if I wake up next to my suitcase, next to the painting you did for me for Valentine's Day, those fucking pictures still scattered all over the floor? What would I do if I walked across the street and found you still buried under the willow trees behind the church? What if you're the most beautiful dream I've ever had? _

"So you'll go back regardless of where you are?" She shook her head. "Kidnapping you to the mountains is out, I guess," she mumbled.

"Yeah, he thinks so. The location just makes it easier."

"So you're cutting and running with all the memories, huh? Leaving nothing for the Edward you're leaving behind. Just a black hole. The 2004 you will think you've been on some kind of drunken bender."

"Yeah, but I'm taking only the memories that are mine," he said softly. "The past four days."

"It feels like much longer."

"Yes."

She stopped them on the path suddenly, grabbing his hand. "This hand won't know what it's touched," she said sadly, holding his palm to her cheek. "The things it's done the past four days." She kissed his knuckles, the bruises almost gone from where he'd taken down those boys hell bent on hurting her. "How it saved me… loved…" she sniffed.

"Bella," he said hoarsely.

"No," she glared at him suddenly and tucked his hand back to his side. She started walking without him. "Let's keep going," she called. "I think we're almost there."

He followed.

Edward knew what it was like to be the only one left with memories. It hurt. It bruised you secretly, soul deep. You might look fine on the outside, but just under the surface the damage ran unchecked, spreading, taking your breath away with unexpected pain if you pressed just the wrong way. He'd never wanted that for her.

"This is the smaller one," Bella said over the crash of the water, showing him on the resort map. "It's so beautiful, isn't it? Look at all the flowers."

He nodded at her, almost unable to speak, watching as she walked into the grassy clearing on the other side of the rocks. She was such a pro at deflecting the unpleasant. Tomorrow they would separate and here she was smiling and spinning around in the tiny wildflowers. It hurt to look at her, she was so beautiful.

* * *

She'd lost her breath, lying under him in the flowers. "Will you… make me, you know…"

"I don't know, tell me," he whispered in her ear.

"Go," she giggled. "Come. Please. I want to come… oh…" His fingers went further and her head dropped back on the grass.

They'd had their picnic in the little flower field she'd led them to, courtesy of Dr. Shan's personal chef. He was full of roast chicken and tiny pimento cheese sandwiches while she'd eaten all the cream cheese crackers with mint jelly. There'd been a bottle of champagne too, but he'd only hesitated for a second, thinking of her age. Now she was two cups in and adorably buzzed. And very, very affectionate.

"I want to see you do it," he whispered, kissing her after taking a sip from his champagne. He let some dribble down the side of her mouth. "Have you ever done that?" His other hand moved slowly over her panties. They were damp.

"What?" Her eyes flew open.

"To yourself. Made yourself come."

"Um," she looked positively panicked. "No, uh, no. Edward…"

He looked unsettled, all teasing gone from his face. "I don't feel like I can ask you… _demand_ that you wait for me," he said after a moment. "I want you to, god, I want you to. But it's five years." The unsettled had evolved into distressed. "I just…"

"Do we have to talk about that?" she asked. She ran her fingers over his chin, thumbing his bottom lip. She loved being able to touch him. She wanted his hand back where it had been, in her pants.

"Right. Right," he smiled, still managing to look miserable. "You know I just want you to be happy."

"Everything will be fine." She kissed him. "You keep saying that. You should believe your own words."

"Touch yourself then," he mumbled against her lips.

"Don't you want to?" Her small voice, almost lost in the crash of the waterfall.

"I'll feel better about leaving if I know you can do that." He leaned back. "For yourself. I don't want anyone else doing that for you," he said fiercely.

"In—in front of you?"

"God, yes." He dropped his head, biting at her nipple through her shirt. "Take off your pants."

"But someone might see!" Her eyes darted all around. This wasn't like the rose garden, where it had been dark, and they had fit themselves in that cozy little space between the bricks and the tree and bushes. They were completely exposed in the middle of a wildflower field, for goodness sakes, right by one of the highlights on the resort map! But despite her unease, she arched under him, moaning as he pulled her t-shirt up over her breast, his open mouth warm and wet on her stomach. Goosebumps sped across her arms and chest as she watched him inch the cup of her bra down, down, white skin giving way to a hint of pink, when he stopped.

"Hmm, I guess we should go then…" he murmured, looking off to the side. Through her shirt he flicked her other nipple gently, a small knowing smile across his face.

Bella felt something within her shift, the heat from within burning, pulsing, suddenly fearless. She scowled, and yanked the cup down herself.

"You're so mean," she whispered, her pout giving way to a grin.

"Make up your mind, little girl." He held her eyes as he sucked the pink of her into his mouth, the rasp of his tongue blanking her mind, her heart scrabbling to regain its rhythm. As her eyes closed and her head fell back, he threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing. She welcomed the rush of sensation; it grounded her, a reminder that she was real, that Edward was still here, with her. Because she wanted to remember everything. And then his mouth was suddenly gone; releasing her to kiss his way down her stomach, and then back up again. The part of her that he'd sucked into his mouth was left to cool in the summer breeze, and warm in the sunshine. It made her want to yank all her clothes off so that he could lick her everywhere. She thought then, at that moment, that she really would do anything for him.

Opening her eyes, she found him leaning over her, his face in shadow because he was blocking the sun. She let him unhook her bra in the back, guide her arms out of her t-shirt, leaving it loose around her neck. As he laid her bra to the side he tilted back to look at her, displayed out for everyone to see. Birds, clouds… passing overhead planes. She blushed.

"You're beautiful," he said, kissing her gently between her breasts, over her heart.

"I can't see you," she murmured, holding one hand up as a shield. He moved closer, kissing her on the nose.

"I'm here," he said simply, claiming her hand to kiss that too.

And it hit home so abruptly, that he was really leaving. The idea of losing him was such a violent pain in her heart, her eyes welled up but she didn't cry, she didn't cry. He knew though, he always seemed to know. Shaking his head, his eyes were pleading, a silent appeal to address it later.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Now you," he rasped, hell bent on keeping her out of the looming melancholy. His eyes were shut tight; maybe holding his own tears at bay. After a moment he unfurled her hand, splaying out her fingers. He made a show of licking two of them before guiding them to her nipple, puckered in the sunlight. He shifted down, kissing as he went, finally running his tongue along the underside of her breast. He wanted her to forget, even if it was for only a few moments.

She glanced around one more time, shivering a little because his hair tickled. Nothing but trees out there. Clouds throwing shadows on the grass. The occasional chattering bird.

"You really want to see this?" she asked the sky, blushing still, smiling when he laughed in an odd, choked kind of way. She told herself she could be mortified later. He wanted this so she would give it to him. Surprise flitted across her features when she finally rubbed herself with her fingers, the feeling heightened by the mesmerized look on Edward's face as he watched her every move. "Does this…" she whimpered, "Does this turn you on?"

He answered by moving on top of her, shoving just how turned on he was into the cradle of her hips, making her gasp.

"God yes, you make me insane," he mumbled against her neck.

"I like you insane," she whispered back, her hips moving under him.

A shadow moved slowly over the meadow, a distant rumble shook the ground.

Edward glanced up at the summer storm clouds. This was getting deliciously out of control. He really didn't think she'd go as far as she had, out here in the open, but she'd surprised him, once again. Maybe it was the champagne. When a few drops of rain fell from the sky seconds later, his decision was easy. He pressed another kiss to her jaw.

"It's about to rain." He grazed his fingers over her other breast, brushing his mouth over the sweet curve of her ear. "Come on."

She laughed openly at their luck and grabbed her bra, wrapping it around his neck as he helped her pull her t-shirt down. They held hands, running through the trees for the deep, rocky overhang beside the waterfall.

* * *

They were well and truly out of sight, she thought with satisfaction, as she watched the downpour from the shallow cavern they'd discovered. The rain was stunning, driving sheets of water across the field in rippling waves, and the sun was still shining. It was hard to hear with the rain and the constant crash of the waterfall so she turned around to get Edward's attention. She wanted him to see how pretty it all was.

But the words died in her throat as she saw him, his chest bare, his jeans unbuttoned. The ceiling was low in the small cave so he was stooped over just a bit, his hair hanging low over his eyes. She could see clearly that he was hard, and the butterflies went crazy in her stomach. He was perfect. The rain in the field had nothing on him. He'd made a place for them over a cushion of moss with the small blanket that came with the picnic lunch, and then he'd tried to bunch his shirt into a makeshift pillow. She took in a shaky breath. How was this sweet, beautiful man hers?

He'd spotted her watching him, and he smirked as he straightened up as much as he could, his own eyes skating over her breasts, practically naked in her more-than-damp white t-shirt. He still had her lacy bra draped around his neck like a ridiculous scarf.

She turned back around to face the rain, and he came up behind her, pulling her back against his chest, his chin on her shoulder. She reached up to tug on her bra.

"That's a nice look for you," she turned her head to murmur in his ear.

His response was a vague rumble across her back that flashed clear to her toes, and other parts too, especially when she felt the warmth of his mouth on her chilly shoulder, and his hands at her stomach, easing her shirt up, up, off.

He cupped her breasts, squeezing, stroking both hands down and up, avoiding the sensitive points of her nipples. When she made a small whine of exasperation, he pulled her fingers into his mouth again, showing her his one-track mind. She turned in his arms.

"I thought you'd forgotten about that," she said, with a coy smile as she brought her other hand to his lips. His eyes widened when he saw what she was doing.

Watching Bella touch herself in front of him was something he'd never even dared to dream about. He didn't know if she was doing it purely for his benefit, or if it was something she'd really wanted to try… it didn't matter, he was going to make sure she enjoyed herself. He hoped she wasn't embarrassed because she was truly the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen.

He kissed her hard on the mouth, her hands crushed between them as he fumbled with the buttons on her shorts, shoving them down himself until she took over and stepped out of the legs, leaving them in a heap on the rocks. She laughed delightedly into his mouth, pleased to have him so out of control. He tickled her in retaliation.

They were both giggling when he pulled her down to the makeshift bed.

"What lovely accommodations," she said, sweeping her hand over the classic red checked pattern of the blanket.

"It's called spontaneity. And atmosphere," he said, his smile a wicked tease, kissing the inside of her thigh. "And I could make a horrible joke about eating you for dessert but I'll refrain." She shivered when he spread her legs open, his hands everywhere. "Out of respect for your delicate sensibilities, of course," he said, his breath washing over her, making her squirm.

She waited, trembling, while he teased her mercilessly with his mouth, kissing up and down the insides of her thighs. He'd kissed her down there, right _there,_ last night in the bathtub, after what _he'd_ dubbed The Most Hideous Display of Manly Stamina in Recorded History Ever. Just thinking about his mouth down there made her tingle, he'd absolutely blown her mind. She moved restlessly. So what was he waiting for?

"Your hand… Bella, bring your hand down here." He sounded out of breath. His own hands were curled under her bottom, lifting her up. Dragging the flat of his tongue up the crease of her thigh was a poor substitute for tasting her but he wanted this to be all her.

She should be embarrassed, she thought, but there just wasn't room for it, all she could do was feel. She sighed, breath shaky with want, arching her body in a sinuous stretch. "Edward," she whispered huskily. She didn't resist when he used his thumbs to part her with stark intimacy, her thoughts splintering as he licked her hard, a sudden, sharp ache that left her tensed, needing more. She pushed into him, gasping. _More._

"No—your fingers. Touch yourself," and he flicked her with his tongue to ensure she knew where. She hesitated, but the wanting was greater than any shyness that attempted to take hold. Up on her elbow now, they both watched her hand as it crept down, sliding over the sensitive plane of her stomach, circling past her belly button.

"You can do this," he assured her, as he lapped at her lightly, too lightly, causing something between a whimper and a groan to slip out of her mouth. Shuddering, she moved her body against him, needing, begging. _More_. She met the blazing green of his eyes as he went lower, pressing his tongue inside her body, leaving an open invitation for her to finish this herself.

He gave her one last teasing lick before she pushed him out of the way and pressed her fingers there herself… oh _god_. Pleasure short-circuited her system and she trembled, trying to find her mind. He was slowly pumping a finger in and out as she circled that tiniest part of her body that somehow had the power to make her lose her senses completely. Sparks flared behind her eyelids, and she barely heard his encouragement through the buzz in her head.

When she reached the edge, in all its delicious tension, she hesitated to push herself over, suddenly uncertain.

"I can't," she tossed her head, half insane with need. "Oh, I _can't._" She sat up abruptly, pushing him onto his back, kissing him roughly, desperately. "You too," she moaned, searching blindly for the top of his boxers so she could push her way inside. "You too."

The incredulous look on his face was almost comical, but he was already out of his pants, pumping himself.

"Fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back. He grabbed her hand and thrust it back between her legs. She moaned and straddled his lap, rising up on her knees over him, her skin shimmering with a fine layer of sweat. His lips ran over her neck, her shoulder, marking her unashamedly. He was so close to coming. What a fucking rookie he was.

"Bella, oh _god_," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to hold off. He came in his hand when he felt her stiffen. Seconds later she cried out against his neck, the orgasm rocking her hard, an almost violent release that left her limp, shaking in his arms.

He laid her down on the blanket and kissed her gently. She watched him from beneath her lashes, a sloe-eyed gaze that told him she'd be dozing in minutes, as he took care of the necessary business of wiping his hand on the cloth napkin that had once held little sandwiches.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered against her cheek, as the storm raged outside. He watched her breathe softly, evenly, for a few minutes before he reached over for his pants, searching the pocket for something he'd been carrying for months. A silver necklace. Something snapped back into place inside him when he clasped it around her neck.

* * *

"Why can't I… I don't know, call you in a few weeks?" she asked.

The mood had slowly declined as they made their way back to the room, thoughts of packing up, flight schedules, arranging transportation to the airport suddenly dominating the evening. He was brooding, and she was at a loss for how to snap him out of it. For Bella, it was precious time slipping away. Everything in her screamed for her to find a way to have _more_, _create_ more time with him.

"So what?" she said, as if he'd answered. "You might not remember who I am, but you can get to know me." She kept on, encouraged by his silence. "It'll be like—like at the party, when you knew who I was and I didn't know you. That worked out okay because we're meant to be together, Edward. Remember?" She found herself looking up at him, pulling, clutching his arm when he wouldn't look at her. She suddenly hated herself for begging, hated him for finding her, loving her, only to leave a few days later. But she couldn't stop. And she wouldn't want to. "As long as we're together everything will be okay."

"No! Damn it, you can't call. Promise me!" He exploded, seething down at her, making her shrink back. "We talked about this. Promise me you won't do that, Bella. I'm fucking serious, you hear me?"

"But- but why?" she started to cry in earnest. "I don't understand." I don't-"

"Let me tell you about the fucking idiot I was at 21. I was more of a kid than you are right now, at 17. I was selfish and immature and an asshole. I would've ruined us, god, fucking _ruined _us because I wasn't ready for you. I was angry at my father, angry at myself because my career was in the toilet before I even graduated… I thought the world owed me something, don't you see? I need time, okay? You've got to trust me on this. I need time to grow up.

"Okay, fine" she cried, hugging herself, "o-okay."

"And you can't put your life on hold for me anyway. You're not ready either. You have to go to school and be who you're supposed to be. That chance was taken away from you before. You're—you're fucking amazing, Bella, the talent you have is unbelievable. Your whole life is out there, waiting for you to do whatever you want. Go out, make friends, go out with other… whatever you want." She gasped at his implications. He swore, and wiped his eyes. "You have to live. Promise me." He tried to pull her back into his arms but she slapped him away.

"Don't you dare tell me to _live_. That's such a load of bullshit, Edward. Why aren't you telling me to lock myself in my room for five years? I thought you loved me! You actually want me to go out with other guys? You want me to go—to go _fuck_ other guys so I can experience life? How can you ask me to do something like that?" she choked out, mortification creeping in, that he could think she would give herself like that to any one else. "How _can_ you Edward? After what we just did only a little while ago?"

He slid down her body with a sob, pressing his face into her stomach. "How can I ask you to shut yourself off for five years? You're it for me, Bella, but you've got to find your own way back to me. No, I don't want you with anyone else, ever. Ever. I'd want to fucking kill anyone that laid a hand on you. But I can't… I can't put you in that cage. I want you to be sure about us, about everything when I see you again.

She fell down beside him on the floor. "Then tell me to wait. I want _you_ to wait. I don't want you with anyone else except me. I'm not afraid to ask that of you."

"Bella, I'll love you regardless, however, whenever, you come back to me. Even if you don't." The insinuation that he would allow her to live a life without him completely contradicted the glittering possession in his eyes.

"Of course I'll come to you. There's no one else, Edward." She wanted to comfort him, but he was having none of it.

"It's five years. I just don't think you understand what can happen in five years."

"I loved you before. When I lived beside you in Summerside. Before you came back… to save me. "

"I was the only guy in your age bracket that was still single," he laughed, a little crazily. "You hardly had a choice. And now… god, you're so young, I'm sorry, but it's true. But maybe that's because I'm speaking as an old man."

"26 is hardly old!"

"It is to someone 17. I don't want you to resent me. I don't want you to regret."

"I'm not a kid," she fumed at him. "I love you now, Edward. I'll always love you."

"I know, I know." Placating, now. "I'll always love you too." He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "Just don't… don't fall in love with anybody else. Don't get pregnant… don't marry anybody, until I can see you again.

She laughed, soberly. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. Although I'll take you however I can get you, okay? If you're pregnant don't be afraid to come. We'll work it out. I'll always want you, Bella. Always. Just give me another chance in five years."

"You're such an asshole, Edward. You think I'd show up after five years _pregnant_ by some random guy? How can you say that to me? You're starting to really piss me off. I'm not getting _pregnant_ anytime soon, _believe_ me. And I'm sure as hell not getting married. Even to _you_. So just…" she searched herself, at a loss, "shut up!"

"I don't think you'd show up pregnant. I'm sorry. I just… meant that I'd want you no matter what. Any circumstances."

"Okay then," she said, only slightly mollified. She walked away from him, turning out lights, reminded of the night before, when she'd watched him do the same thing. She'd been apprehensive then, nervously excited to lose her virginity. The mood had been so different.

The moonlight showed the way back to him, waiting beside the bed.

He dropped his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in tender intimacy.

"One day," he said, "I _will_ put a ring on your finger and then I'll marry you, Bella Swan. You'll have a baby that we make together. We'll live together for the rest of our lives, and no one will leave, ever 'll get through this."

Her eyes glistened in the darkness, and he knew that she understood.

_One day._

He pulled her into bed silently and they stayed tangled together the rest of the night. She turned to him more than once, and he helped her forget, willingly, as often as she needed, that morning was only a few hours away.

* * *

They parted at the airport. She'd barely remember that morning, packing, riding in the taxi. But saying goodbye to him would be forever burned, etched painfully into her heart.

"I'll change my flight," he said, agitated that her plane had been delayed, and that it was now scheduled to leave 30 minutes after his. "I didn't want you to be left behind. I wanted you to go first."

"Don't be silly," she said with a bit of a tremulous smile. "I'm a big girl, okay?"

"I can't. I can't do this," he whispered brokenly, clutching her to him. "I can't leave you." His face was pressed into the side of her neck.

She wanted to reassure him, but she couldn't get any words out.

"Mr. Cullen? I'm sorry, but you're the last to board. You need to come, now, if you want to make this flight." The flight attendant looked apologetic but her voice was firm.

Edward ignored her, moving his hands to hold the side of Bella's head close to his mouth.

"I take it back," he said urgently, "wait. Wait for me, don't even look at another fucking guy. God, I'm sorry but please, wait for me. Five years, don't forget, Bella. Come find me." His words tripped over and over each other as he tried to cram them into the few precious seconds they had left.

"I won't forget." Her tears ran unchecked, dripping onto the ugly airport carpet. "I love you. Go, it's alright. It'll be alright." Love, she thought, as she held him tight, was an agony beyond compare.

"I love you," he mumbled, and sealed his mouth over hers, kissing her with wild desperation, mixing their tears before he turned and walked away.

She was frozen where he left her, even as she pictured herself running, racing, slamming into him before he walked through the door to get on the plane. If only she could touch him one more time, hear his voice. Just one more time. Just one.

_Oh my god, Edward, don't leave. Don't leave me, oh pleasepleaseplease don't leave me._

She didn't even realize she was following until the flight attendant stopped her gently and pushed her back so the doors could close.

* * *

She was desolate, but waited two whole weeks before she even entertained the idea of calling him. What would be worse, she wondered, to know he was telling the truth or to discover that he'd played her, that she'd been the butt of some sort of bizarre practical joke. She held the silver seashell of her necklace in her hand, squeezing so hard it hurt. Of course he'd been real, how could she ever think otherwise? Still…

She felt badly about going against his wishes, but he wasn't here to stop her now, was he? Shaking, she punched the keys on her cell phone before she could talk herself out of it, the clean, calm robotic tones serving as a reminder of how volatile emotion could be, what it could do to a person. How much simpler would life be if she didn't have to feel? Before she could really wrap her head around the fact that she was actually calling him, it rang once, twice, and someone answered his phone.

"Hello?"

Oh God. It was _him_. Her chest hurt with a painful kind of hope. _Edward, Edward it's me. It's me it's me…_

She could barely find her voice. "H-hello?"

"Hey. Um…" his uncertainty came through loud and clear. "Who're you trying to call?"

"Edward?" she whispered. _Don't cry, don't cry._

"Oh!" Relieved. "Yeah, this is Edward. Who's this?"

"This is…" She tried her hardest to strengthen her voice, aiming for somewhat normal. She drew in a deep, trembling breath, eyes burning. "This is…" she hesitated again.

The silence didn't last long but it was enough to answer her questions.

"Do we know each other?" He sounded hopeful. "Have we met… maybe?"

Oh, that voice. His voice. Black spots hazed her vision, threatening to tip her into unconsciousness. It was true, all of it, everything he'd said, it was true. She thought she'd believed him before, but she hadn't. Oh god, she really, really hadn't.

"No," she cried, her voice wobbling through her tears. "You don't know me. I-I'm sorry, so, so sorry." She shook her head no, even though he couldn't see her. She wanted to shake the last month right out of her head. She wanted to keep him on the phone so she could burn the memory of his voice into her head.

She was truly alone. There was no one else to remember. She was eight again, playing outside when the patrol car pulled up.

"_Mr. Sam! Where's my daddy? He was late for dinner." She stopped short when she saw that his eyes were red. Her blue crayon rolled all the way down the driveway and got lost in the grass._

"Hey- are you okay?" Edward was alarmed now. "Wait! Don't go- tell me your name! Do I know you from school? I have this letter-"

"Goodbye," she whispered, and forced herself to end the call, crumpling to the floor.

He called back immediately. She froze for a fractured instant before she turned off the phone. Seconds later she had thrown it into a sink of running water to end the temptation of answering. Or of calling him again, begging. For what, she didn't know._ I don't like this game Edward. I want to quit. _

She was crazy with grief, screaming and crying, breaking things when she threw them across the room. This was hard, so hard. So much harder than she'd bargained for. The sentence of five years without him lay thick, heavy, an endless, suffocating blanket. It felt like drowning. She wanted to claw it off, fight for breath but there was no way out. There was no way but forward. In the end, after her voice was gone, throat torn from screaming, after she'd woken up with her eyes swollen shut from crying, after she'd gotten in the shower and washed the salt and snot from her hair, she took a deep cleansing breath. Several deep cleansing breaths.

After all, she'd promised to trust him.

"Five years," she whispered hoarsely into the dark, because she needed to hear it out loud.

She'd promised to live.

For him. She'd do it for him.

She opened the curtains to let the light in.

Always, for him.

* * *

_The Promise, by Tracy Chapman_

_If you wait for me _  
_ then I'll come for you_  
_ Although I've traveled far_  
_ I'll always hold a place for you in my heart_

_ If you think of me_  
_ If you miss me once in awhile_  
_ Then I'll return to you_  
_ I'll return and fill that space in your heart _

_ Remembering_  
_ Your touch_  
_ Your kiss_  
_ Your warm embrace_  
_ I'll find my way back to you_  
_ If you'll be waiting_

_ If you dream of me _  
_ Like I dream of you_  
_ In a place that's warm and dark_  
_ In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart _

_Together again_  
_ It would feel so good to be_  
_ In your arms_  
_ Where all my journeys end_  
_ If you can make a promise _  
_ If it's one that you can keep_  
_ I vow to come for you_  
_ If you'll wait for me _


	32. Wanderer

**Hi! Missed y'all last week. Wow, thank you guys SO much for voting for Firefly over at The Lemonade Stand. I couldn't believe it! I love that you're just as invested in these characters as I am. :)**

**Thanks and love to faireyfan and les16 for stripping my chapters naked and poking at all the questionable parts. Don't be alarmed. They're very professional. Any errors left are all mine!**

* * *

"Nothin' like home," Mrs. Cope had said. "Where we _love_ is home, Edward. You can leave us, leave Summerside for school, for travel… for years you can be gone. But your heart will always be here, sweet boy. Your heart will always be here."

Edward remembered her saying that as he packed up to leave at the end of the summer in 2004… the _first_ time around. His class load had been getting heavy- nothing he couldn't handle- but he'd questioned the indulgence of coming down to a redneck, Podunk town for an extended vacation every year. There had been better, more productive ways to spend his time, surely. Tanya was from New York… New York was bigger, brighter, full of possibilities. Lucrative opportunities.

He hadn't fully settled in his mind that he wouldn't be coming back for a while but Mrs. Cope had seemed to know. She could always read him like a book; front and back cover, down the spine, between the lines.

"Aw, come on Mrs. Cope," Edward had said with a grin. "I'll be back to see you soon. I'll need a break from school, you know?"

"You just remember where you came from, honey. And I ain't talking bout that drafty city up there in Illinois."

But of course he hadn't heard her, starry eyed with making his mark on the world in a city that never sleeps.

* * *

_June 2004_

Bay Breeze had a tiny airport, so it wasn't hard to find his uncle waiting just past the security checks, waving a ball cap to get his attention. Guilt and regret crept over him as he waved and returned Peter's contagious grin. Regret for the present, for not having enough time to spread around… regret for the past, for not understanding what he had when he'd decided to go chasing a dream down a rabbit hole. Since he had no idea what kind of blank spots his memory would have once he made the jump back to 2009, this could very well be the last day he spent with his uncle.

He thought about what to do, in the spaces between the painful hammering in his head. The headaches had started out as annoying background noise but had now graduated to full-on nauseating spikes slamming through his temples.

Saving Bella from a physical attack at a certain point in time was different than saving Peter from a heart attack. How in the world was he supposed to accomplish that in one day? He wished again that he had more time. Time with Bella, time with his uncle. But he felt time itself pressing down on him, pushing, crushing. He wondered vaguely if his body would just shut down when it was time to go… fate's way of incapacitating him so it could send him back to where he belonged. He'd give in before it came to that. He was already getting sleepy. Somehow he knew that if he allowed himself to go to sleep that _this_ time it would work. He'd wake back up in 2009. To what though, he had no idea.

"You been quiet," Peter remarked, with a sidelong glance, after they'd been in the car a few minutes. "Things not go well with your girl?" When a pained expression flashed over Edward's face he was quick to add, "Not that it's any of my business, of course. But I've always got an ear, if you ever got something you need to get off your chest."

"It's complicated," Edward said softly. His shoulders tightened. To think about Bella right now would unravel him completely.

"Always is." Pete signaled to turn onto the county road that would take them to Summerside.

"When's the last time you had a doctor's visit, Uncle Pete?" Edward waved his uncle aside, lifting the heavy supply boxes up onto the counter.

"Aw, I don't know. Never really had any problems. I hardly ever get sick." Peter was giving his nephew only half his attention; the other half reserved for a baseball game between the Red Sox and the Padres. "You know, Curt Shilling's got a decent arm. Shame that the BoSox ain't ever going to get their act together." He laughed at Edward's bemused look. "What? You know how much I hate the Yankees."

"I bet the Red Sox will win it all this year," he said nonchalantly, watching Curt wind up and throw.

"The championship? Wait- the _World_ Championship? I think that headache of yours has killed a few too many brain cells, boy. Either that or the medicine's got you too addled to think properly." Peter grinned, sensing a wager. "There's no way the Boston Red Sox are ever gonna win another World Championship. It's been… what's it up to now? Isn't it 86 years? There's no way."

"Wanna bet?" Edward laughed. "If I win then you gotta do everything I say."

"Well, there's no telling what you'll be asking for. Alright, fine. Everything. Within reason, I reckon."

"I want you to commit to seeing a doctor pretty often. You're not getting any younger, old man."

"Hell, what sort of prize is that? That's easy!" Peter slapped the counter. "You're on, sucker. I've got to think about what I'm gonna claim from _you_ when you lose. It'll be good though, you hide and watch."

"Whatever. You're so old you'll probably-" Edward stopped speaking when he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. _Emmett_.

"Hello?" He wandered outside to the back porch.

"Edward."

Aw hell. Definitely not Emmett.

"Yeah."

"Edward, this is Rosalie Swan."

"Yeah, I figured. Hi Rosie."

"Listen. I'm being nice because you're Emmett's friend… and because of… that night and everything, but…" she paused, breathing heavily.

Edward had the distinct impression of a pot about to boil over, or of a smoking, rumbling volcano. Which was pretty impressive over the phone. When she finally spoke again her voice was low and menacing, biting.

"What the fuck did you do to my sister?"

Immediately, panic spiked through him. "Is she okay? What happened?"

"As if you didn't know, you asshole. She called to let me know she was flying home to Jacksonville. She practically fell to pieces over the phone! I knew she shouldn't have gone anywhere with you. I tried to tell her-"

"So she's safe? What did she say?" Edward broke in. Jacksonville was good. She'd get her stuff then go on up to school. Where she belonged.

"Why should you care? It looks like you fucked her over good, dickhead. Literally and figuratively. God, I _knew_ you'd use her, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt because Em said you were a good guy, but that's all you rich pricks want isn't it? A good fucking time. You just had to pick a girl who hadn't had a lot of experience. You really did a number on her, you know that? She wouldn't say one bad word against you, you brainwashing piece of shit."

Edward just let her rant, feeling sick to his stomach.

"—and you can bet that I'm never going to mention your name to her again, and I'm telling Emmett the same thing. And let me tell you something else, if you _ever_ even think about calling her again, or surprising her at school, then I swear to god I'll get even with you. You'd better believe I'll-"

"Look, Rosie, I understand where you're coming from." Edward steeled himself for what he was about to say next. "I won't call her, okay? She was just getting too attached. She was going to follow me up to Dartmouth and I didn't want her to do that. So I- I cut her loose. Sorry if she got hurt." He squeezed his eyes shut, blindly sitting on the porch steps. _Fuck_, his head.

Rosie was silent at that. "Fine. You're absolutely right about that. She's better off without you messing with her head. She deserves someone better than you. You just leave her alone, you hear me, Edward? Just forget my sister even existed."

He unpacked slowly, looking for traces of Bella everywhere, needing to make sure all the evidence of the last few days of his life was gone. He just couldn't take the chance that his 21 year-old self would somehow find out about her and become… intrigued. He'd like to think that no matter who or where he was that he'd always understand that Bella was different, special… not someone to play with. But he just couldn't be sure. And his future with her was too important to take a chance on.

He'd toyed around with the idea of writing himself a letter… but he had no idea of how much he should reveal. Enough to show himself the letter was serious he supposed, but not so much so as to make himself think he was batshit crazy.

He shoved his duffle bag to the side and sat down slowly on the bed, looking at his Dartmouth pennant. Before he could chicken out, he pulled out his phone and pressed the numbers he knew by heart.

"Hello?"

"Hey Esme," he said, not without effort, weighted down with all the words he should have said long ago, so, so long ago.

"Edward!" Her voice was warm and accepting. He wondered why he'd never heard it before. "What a wonderful surprise to hear from you."

"I'm sorry I don't call more often, I just… I should. I should call more often," he stumbled over his words. "I've never told you thank you. Th-thanks for being my mom."

"Edward…" her voice a soft breath through the phone line.

"I know this is kind of out of the blue and everything but I didn't want to wait any longer. No matter what happens… I want- I want you to remember that I appreciate all the stuff you did for me while I was growing up. I never told you, you know. I was mad and- and…"

"Oh, honey, I know. I've always known. I love you, sweetheart, just like you were my own."

"Yeah, thanks," he sniffed and wiped his eyes, feeling ten years old again, embarrassed. "I love you too."

"I have to admit, you're worrying me a little though. What do you mean, 'no matter what happens'? Is everything okay?"

"Fine, everything's fine. I've just had a weird couple of days, I guess."

"Alright," she sounded unsure.

"I need to go, okay? But I'll try to call you later."

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll be here."

* * *

He was tired, so tired. He remembered being nine, flying on the red eye, a straight shot from Chicago to Bay Breeze. The nice stewardess took good care of him, extra apple juice, extra cookies, even though it was way past his bedtime by the time the plane taxied down the runway to lift off into the air. She tucked him in with a fleecy airline blanket and said, "Just close your eyes, Edward. And when you wake up you'll be in a whole different place completely. Just like magic."

He'd written himself a letter, probably one of the weirdest things he'd ever had to do. He hoped it worked. He hoped he was smart enough to look inside himself and just… believe. And trust. And take a leap of faith.

So little had changed about this room, he thought, as he pushed the drawers closed on the dresser. He remembered feeling so confined in this house when he was a teenager. He'd loved Pete but hated the small town, where everyone knew you. But then he'd never liked Chicago either, because that was where his father was. Running to New York hadn't solved his problems, the biggest city he could find, miles and miles away from any family he'd ever known. He'd lost himself in the wildness for a while but he'd been far from happy, settling for a job that wasn't what he'd wanted. His pride and arrogance had made him afraid to fail. His anger over losing his mom had kept him from bridging the distance to the family he loved.

But life was too short not to _try _wasn't it? To not thank those people for being who they were, to tell them that you loved them. To not hold on to that girl in your bed and say, fuck the chocolate chips. Don't leave. Stay because I love you.

He lay on the bed, his shoulders stiff, tensed, attempting to relax. Goodbye, 2004. The letter was on the table beside the bed, folded, but not in an envelope. Everything in his bag had been put away. For a moment he stared up at the ceiling, absorbing the faint crash of the waves, a constant music, along with the crickets in the grass and trees out front. Finally his eyes closed only to fly open a few seconds later. Abruptly he sat up with the crazy idea of getting the film out of the camera. Half asleep already, he grabbed it from the foot of the bed, struggling with the latch on the back, fumbling, cursing when the film canister popped out suddenly and flew out of his hands.

"Fuck," he swore, looking blearily over the edge. Where did it go? Probably under the bed. He flopped back on his pillow with a deep sigh. It didn't matter; his head was spinning and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

_So tired, Bella._

_Firefly._

He smiled in his half-state of awareness, at the thought of her being there waiting for him when he woke up. She'd be 22. God, he couldn't wait to touch her, hold her. Kiss her.

"_Mama, no!" Edward whined, staring at the jar. Her scarf was bright yellow today and he thought it looked wondrously like the glow of the firefly he'd caught. He didn't want to let it out! But it was time to go inside for dinner. "I can keep it. I'll feed her, okay? See, look. I punched holes in the top so she could breathe."_

"_Oh honey," his beautiful mama with sea green eyes squatted down beside him, rubbing a smudge off his freckled cheek. "If you want the firefly to live you have to let it go. You'll see her again."_

"_She'll come back?"_

"_She'll come back," she whispered. "I promise."_

* * *

He woke suddenly in the middle of the night. A noise? What… he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, disoriented. His old room… he glanced around. His old room looked different. Different… what else was different… something. He was dreaming, except… why was he sleeping in his clothes again? He hissed in pain as he inadvertently rolled over on his arm. It was bandaged heavily, a little blood coming through the gauze. What the fuck was this? The pain woke him up though. Really woke him up. His eyes widened as he stared around the room.

_Holy shit. What was the date? What year? What year?_

He flung himself out of bed, stumbling over a pair of work boots. _Calendar? A fucking dated receipt from a store? God, please, anything, anything._ He pulled out his iPhone. Dead. He bit back a sob as he fumbled for the wallet in his back pocket. _His license. His driver's license…_

But when he opened his wallet a folded note fell out on the floor, yellowed, taped in placed, edges torn, frayed. He opened it slowly, gently.

And he remembered.

Everything.

* * *

**Alright, listen. I had every intention of putting Edward's letter he wrote to himself in this chapter but it just didn't fit. So I'll post it, along with a very interesting conversation Edward had with Dr. Shan at the restaurant in Colorado. On Monday. :) And then next Friday will be your regularly scheduled update.**

**I posted an snippet of Bella over in Firefly Rarities... If you haven't read it already I think you'll find it very interesting.**

**See you next week! Twice! :D**


	33. The Letter

**Triumph over the power outage!**

**Kisses and hugs to faireyfan and les16! Any mistakes remaining are mine.**

**I forgot to attribute a line from Edward's mom last chapter to allthatsparkles... "If you want the firefly to live, you have to let it go."**

**It was perfect. :) Thank you!  
**

* * *

_But when he opened his wallet a folded note fell out on the floor, yellowed, taped in placed, edges torn, frayed. He opened it slowly, gently._

_And he remembered._

_Everything._

* * *

He ran and emptied his stomach in the toilet, sitting down abruptly on the cold tile panting like he'd just finished a marathon. Knowledge tingled up his spine.

Two separate histories now occupied the same five years of his life. He'd been expecting this day or so long; he just had no idea it would make him feel so crazed... lost. Carefully he got to his feet, weak, testing his legs as he leaned on the sink with one hand, wiping his mouth with the other. His heartbeat hammered in his chest as he felt something fundamental shift inside him, clicking into place.

Holy hell. _Bella_. He had to go to her… explain… but she had to have known…

His mind raced as he made his way out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth. The letter waited for him on the bed, mocking him. He stared at it from the doorway of his room. The most bizarre feeling of being both Dorothy and the Wizard Behind the Curtain all at the same time sat heavy in his stomach. He didn't have to read the letter because he knew it, backwards and forwards, word for word. He'd memorized it all five years ago.

* * *

_Hey._

_This letter is to you, Edward Cullen, from yourself._

_Don't freak out, okay?_

_Seriously, just stay with me because you're not crazy. Here's a little proof right off the bat:_

_Okay, remember in second grade when that psycho girl bit the hell out of your arm on the playground? You came to the beach that summer and told Mike that you were bit by a snake just to impress him._

_How about this—Jessica grabbed your dick during the fireworks one fourth of July and you shot blue Slurpee out your nose. Mike nearly pissed his pants laughing at you but you couldn't tell him why you did it, because he liked Jessica. A lot. So you never told anyone. And to this day, if you ever see a blue Slurpee, it reminds you of jacking off in your bedroom that night, remembering her hand. _

_Still with me?_

_Last but not least, you've had a story rattling around your head for years… the one about the band of kids in a post-apocalyptic world? You should write that. But more about that later._

_How're you feeling? If everything happens the way I think it'll happen, then you've lost time… a whole week or so. Again, don't freak. _

_I can't tell you why, or really explain, okay? It's a puzzle that you'll have to live with for about five years. In five years you'll understand, I promise. In five years you'll remember the week you're missing right now… you'll even remember writing this letter you're holding in your hand._

_Don't worry, you're not sick- no brain tumor, you don't have multiple personality disorder, you haven't been on some kind of drunkfest/acid trip/crazy mind bender thing for a week. But there are some things you need to know, hence this letter._

_Have you ever wished you could go back and tell your younger self a few things?_

_Yeah, no shit, right? Nicole Shelley in the 9__th__ grade comes to mind._

_Anyway, moving on._

_Number one. You've made a bet with Pete that the Red Sox will win the World Series. And they will. It's fucking awesome- they sweep the Cards four to zero. And I'm sorry I just ruined it for you but I'm using it as proof so you'll do what I say. (I won't ruin the American League Championship for you- but that was fucking awesome too). Make sure Pete starts going to a doctor. If you can pull off a cardiologist without him getting suspicious then go for that. Do the whole "healthy diet" thing for him, with him, whatever. He needs to start eating better. Please. This is important._

_Number two. You can finish your degree if you want, but you might want to put it off for a semester. A hurricane will hit the Gulf Coast in a few months, toward the middle of September. Hurricane Ivan. It will look like it's heading straight for Summerside but it'll veer west at the last minute, and all you'll get is a hell of a lot of rain and some shutters blown off that needed to be replaced anyway. You need to be here though. In Summerside. They'll ask everyone to evacuate and you can help Peter do what needs to be done. You'll always regret it if you don't._

_Listen, there's nothing you can do about hurricanes. I'm telling you these things so that when they happen, you'll know you're not crazy, okay?_

_Around the end of August in 2005, Hurricane Katrina will hit New Orleans. I can't say any more than that except the whole fucking thing unfolds on the TV. It was a disaster—a tragedy of epic proportions. Unbelievable._

_If I thought that this knowledge I've just given you would help diminish some of the heartache for the people affected, I would give you more, I really would. But you'd only be Chicken Little, crying about the sky falling. Control the things that you can control. _

_So often we don't know we're at a crossroads until it's just a speck in the rear view mirror, the decision made, a direction chosen, sometimes without us even knowing we've turned the wheel. With any luck it was the right direction. But a lot of times we're stuck in a bad situation, not quite sure where it all went wrong._

_So trust me. Trust yourself._

_That's where you are right now, a crossroads. Here's your road map._

_Forgive Dad. I know he can be a cold bastard but that's just his M.O. Get past it. Esme will help I think._

_Don't take a job in New York. Don't even consider it. New York's a great place, but not for you._

_When you're not sure where to go when you graduate, come back to Summerside. Help Peter out at the bar when you can. Offer to set up Shelley Cope's new computer because those guys at Best Buy will charge her too much. Believe me, it won't be a failure to come back. You're needed here. _

_Write your book. Don't worry about it being any good, or perfect, or whatever. Just begin. That's really what you want to do anyway—write. I know it is. So don't settle for anything else._

_Here's the very last thing I want you to do, the most important._

_Wait._

_I need you to wait for a girl._

_THE girl is out there making her way to you, slowly but surely. She's the most exquisite thing you'll ever see, and what's inside is just as beautiful as what's outside. She's innocent and sexy, shy and sweet but so brave and strong. She'll tear you a new one if you cross her but she'll also give you the world. She's amazing. She's magic. She'll remind you a little of mom because she feels like home._

_She's your life, your future. And you're hers. You'll love her—I mean, you do love her._

_What I really mean is that… I love her. God, I love her. She's everything._

_Don't fuck this up for yourself. _

_She knows who you are and in five years she'll find you, here, in Summerside. She promised. All you have to do is wait. _

_Yes, you read that right- five years. So keep your dick in your pants. She's waiting for you too and I promise it will be worth it._

_So have a good five years. Be good to yourself, okay? Appreciate what you have, who you have, before it's taken away._

* * *

He tossed the letter in the trash.

Still in a daze, he decided to shower, carefully unwrapping his arm to inspect the tiny stitches before he dropped his underwear and turned on the water. It was three in the morning, but time really didn't mean shit to him any more.

He was finishing this tonight.

* * *

**I know it's short; I decided to put Dr. Shan over in outtakes. I have this thing about "flow"... even if it's all in my head.**

**Bella's up to bat on Friday.**

**Thank you guys!**


	34. Welcome to Summerside

**faireyfan and les16... what would I do without you. Thank you :)**

**I know most of you have read the outtake of Bella at the gallery in Chicago. I've decided it was too important to just leave it as an outtake... maybe you won't mind reading it again. There's more, afterward.**

**Thank you guys SO much for voting Firefly as one of the top four stories over at The Lemonade Stand last week. LaMomo and my sweet girl les16 wrote the loveliest review. I know this story can be hard to rec, what with that weird, crazy thing happening around chapter fifteen... :) But they pulled it off admirably. Thank you both!**

**Did everyone understand that the last chapter was set in 2009? Yes? We're jumping backward a little, here. The dates will help you.**

**PlumCrazyyy actually did a breakdown of Firefly on her blog, fanfictionanonymous. I was impressed! **

**fanfictionanonymous (at) blogspot (dot) com.**

* * *

_September 2007_

"Sir."

"Bella, what a pleasant surprise! Come sit down." The professor hobbled over to the kettle to put on water. "Tea?"

"No, thank you." She fidgeted in the doorway.

"Come in, you're making an old man nervous." He pursed his lips, sorting through the tea bags. "Although…" he peered over the cabinet door, "if you've come in here to ask for an extension I'll whack you with my cane."

Finally, a laugh bubbled out of his favorite student. "I can move pretty fast, Professor."

"Yes, well…" he sighed, "it's all relative. I've become slower over the years. Next year you'll see me resort to throwing paintbrushes." He settled down in his leather chair. "I have to be able to frighten the students somehow, now don't I?"

"I'm fairly sure your reputation precedes you, sir. We all compare emotional scars after the final evaluations." She took a tentative seat in a metal folding chair close to the door.

"Well, that's what I like to hear," the old man smiled. "But what do you need, dearheart? Surely you didn't stop by to inflate my ego more than it already is. And you must know by now you have your A." The professor always chose his words so carefully, like he was reading from prompts, an endless formal script in his head.

"I guess…" Bella sighed. "Maybe a favor."

"Yes?"

"I wanted… I just… can I participate in Chicago instead of New York?"

"Chicago?" he said in surprise. "Well, we're set up for the Met, Bella, you know that."

"I know George Harrod had his exhibit in L.A. a few years ago. Is there any way I could do-"

"He had a contact at the museum out there, dear. I think it was family," he said, frowning at her. "What's this about?" he asked softly, watching her shoulders slump.

She shook her head slightly, staring at her restless feet, bouncing to a nervous rhythm no one could hear but her. "Nothing," she mumbled. "A wild goose chase."

"I might be able to pull a few strings for a straight A student." Gently, he blew across his tea. Turned his head to thumb through his mail.

She sighed again and nodded, as if she'd expected his concession all along. "I'd like to use _Wanderer_ on my postcard. And I only need one. Well…" she bit her lip, smiling, "maybe two postcards. I'll tack one to my bulletin board."

The professor ignored the strange request for only a single mailing card, shocked by the fact she would consider selling the painting she'd hoarded ever since he'd met her, barely eighteen, ready to eat, sleep and breathe brushes, oils and turp. It had taken her a year to finish it. She definitely had his undivided attention now.

"I know you're well aware that what you'll take to the show will be for sale," he finally said. "Most especially what you put on your card." He waited for her to explain but she only nodded enigmatically, excusing herself politely, murmuring something about getting to class on time.

Bella had always seemed a bit lost, a bit melancholy, like she was waiting for something. Or someone. Maybe that someone was in Chicago. He'd puzzled over her before, her dedication to her craft commendable but very one-sided. He'd been afraid she'd burn herself out before she even had a chance to graduate. The professor blinked his eyes at the empty space where she'd been sitting. Isabella Swan had been a model student. She'd never asked him or any other professor for any sort of concession... for anything, really. So he took one last sip and put his tea down, reaching for his address book.

* * *

_November 2007_

Now that she was here, she didn't know if she could keep the emotion off her face. What in the world had she been hoping to accomplish?

She moved to stand beside them, a little behind, gripping her short plastic cup of chardonnay with both hands. The tremors that shook her had grown throughout the evening, beginning with a jolt of fear when she'd seen that they had actually come to the show. She'd circled and circled like a vulture in a little black dress, until finally she was close enough to speak. This was the closest she'd been to _him_ since she'd freaked out and murdered her cell phone.

"See? I told you," the woman smiled up at the man, threading their arms together. "Don't you think so?"

"Well, it's hard to tell; his back is turned." The man stepped closer, then leaned back, the classic revolving pose of a self-proclaimed art connoisseur. "_Wanderer_," he murmured, reading the small plaque to the left. "Well, the artist certainly got his jaw right." He shrugged. "But I don't know if a jaw is worth what they're asking."

"Oh, I think so," Esme breathed. "Even if it didn't look like Edward, the colors… oh, I just love the style. Amazing. So bold and expressive." A pause, then, "I really miss him."

Carlisle dug in his pocket for his brochure. "Who is it again? Are they local?"

"It's a student, dear. Surely we should support a student?"

"Miss Swan… another glass of wine?"

Bella's eyes widened as she turned to face the man who served as the liaison between the Art Institute and her school. Even as she tried to step back discreetly, the damage had been done. She was such a fool.

"Swan?" Esme Cullen said to herself. "Oh, please pardon me for interrupting," she said a little louder. She spared a small glance for Mr. Biers then honed in on the pale girl off to the side. "Are you the artist?"

Goosebumps broke out over her skin. She'd created this very situation; masterminded it really, the least she could do was buck up and act like the grown-up she pretended to be.

"Yes," she replied smoothly, if a little too quietly. She cleared her throat. "Yes ma'am, I'm the artist."

Esme Cullen cocked her head at Bella as if she were a riddle that begged to be solved. Pretty girl, a student, no obvious ties to Chicago or the Gulf Coast, seemingly four years Edward's junior, if the small bio in the brochure was to be believed. So how did she know Edward well enough to capture him so profoundly? It wasn't just the angular line of his jaw as he looked away into the sunset, although it was remarkably like his. Rather the girl had caught the essence of _him_, the way he carried his body while deep in thought, the downward slope of his shoulder, the slant of his forearm as he held one hand casually in his pocket. His air of sadness despite the vibrant colors of the paint was delicate… understated. Masterful. She'd painted a portrait of a man looking mournfully off into the distance, his face mostly hidden. But Esme would know her stepson anywhere. Besides, the unusual color of his tousled hair was a dead giveaway.

Just who was this girl?

"I was just admiring your painting; it's absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," Bella answered graciously, eyes flitting nervously between Esme and Carlisle.

"And you're an art student from Savannah?

"Yes ma'am. This is my last year."

"I see."

There was a beat of silence in which Esme Cullen looked fairly expectant for some sort of revelation that was not exactly forthcoming. Mr. Biers sighed internally. Young artists never knew how to draw a patron out, how to endear themselves and their work to a potential buyer. Miss Swan, although exquisite in her elegance and beauty, resembled something like a deer in headlights right about now.

"Miss Swan has quite the following in the more southern states. I understand that several galleries in Atlanta have offered to show her work… isn't that correct Miss Swan?" Mr. Biers prompted, to little avail. He turned back to Esme. "We are very lucky to have her here in Chicago for this evening. The only student from Savannah," he murmured, smiling back at Bella benevolently.

Esme's eyes narrowed at the way he looked at the girl.

"We'd like to purchase the painting from Miss Swan," Carlisle said in a confident tone. He was tiring of all the back and forth and pussyfooting around. He knew what his wife wanted to know. Hell, he wanted to know too. "But we had some questions as to the identity of the model. Was this painted from life?"

All eyes turned to the artist, who got even paler, if that was possible. Bella shifted minutely and then tapped her temple with her finger.

"Just in my head," she smiled weakly. She hoped desperately that the group would accept her answer at face value and not attempt to delve further. Her voice was fighting a losing battle with the unspoken depth of emotion gripping her throat.

Because that was the goddamned depressing truth, now wasn't it? That was all Edward was to her now.

A beautiful painting.

A memory in her head.

In her mouth, his taste, her eyes, that saw him everywhere, her skin, every inch alive, tingling with his knowing touch. And her heart. Her heart that broke and healed itself again and again with each passing of a new year.

Esme was kissing her husband on the cheek. "Thank you darling! Will you bring another glass of wine on your way back from arranging everything?"

"Of course," Carlisle murmured, coming around her other side to shake Bella's hand. "Miss Swan, it's been a pleasure. Lovely work."

He walked off with Mr. Biers, who was talking animatedly, thrilled at the easiness of the sale. Bella's insides swarmed with a curious mix of anxiousness, elation and disbelief that she had actually sold _that_ painting. She'd be adrift now without it in her apartment.

"Let me show you something," Esme Cullen said while rummaging in her tiny evening pocketbook, sending Bella's heart into high gear when she triumphantly pulled out a photograph.

A _picture_… of _Edward!_ It was an unexpected gift. She'd only dreamed of getting close enough to his parents so she could somehow feel him. And of course she'd wanted them to have the painting. She would have given it to them for free. She'd actually said goodbye to it… sort of a, _you're going to a good home. So, maybe I'll see you again, someday…_

Bella held her hands behind her back; afraid the trembling in her fingers would expose this bizarre ruse she'd concocted. Worst case scenario was that Esme thought Bella was a creepy stalker, fixated on her stepson. Best case scenario? Esme would assume she was another love struck girl that Edward had forgotten. Oh wait…

"Please," Esme murmured, wiggling it somewhat impatiently between them. "I may have another one in my wallet."

"Sure," she said, and reached out to take it, holding a corner delicately between her thumb and index finger.

_Pull up your big-girl panties, Bella. It's only a picture._

"It's a remarkable likeness, wouldn't you agree?"

"It is… I mean, yes," she stammered, staring at the little rectangle of paper in her hand, not daring to lift her head just yet. She was pretty sure Edward's stepmother would see the longing all over her face.

In the photo, Edward looked… happy. She had no frame of reference for the picture… but it was him. And she _wished_ that was all that mattered. Because there was a pretty blonde girl in the picture with him. Flashing an engagement ring.

She was going to be sick.

"No more," Esme sighed, giving up. "I know he's dressed like a dirty construction worker in that picture but that was during the cleanup after the hurricane. Not Katrina… although he helped during that one too- this one is from Ivan."

Bella nodded, swallowing down her dinner for the second time. "Ivan hit the Gulf Coast." Bella had been glued to the Weather Channel that week, terrified that Summerside would be hit. She'd been missing him terribly, having had no idea if Edward was there with his uncle or back at school but she'd prayed that he was safe.

"That's right," Esme said. She looked at the picture and traced Edward's face with her thumb. "He was so sure that his little town down there wouldn't take a direct hit. And he was right. It was the craziest thing. And Katrina-"

"Mrs. Cullen? Is he—I mean to say, he looks happy." Bella had always considered the passing of the last three years a positive thing, milestones in this race she was running, the finish line ending with Edward. But she suddenly felt farther away from him than ever. Evidence that he was happy, living, _really_ _living_ his life without her made her world lose quite a bit of color. Knowing that he didn't remember her during these five years seemed to be of little consolation. She held the picture out like it was burning her hand.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Esme said softly, as she tucked the photo back in her purse. "Sometimes I wonder. And now I see that there's a lot he hasn't told me." She looked at Bella shrewdly. She hadn't told the girl her name. "How does Edward know you, Isabella?"

"He doesn't." A small voice, full of tears that had already been cried a million times over.

But he will, Bella vowed to herself. _He will._

* * *

_January 2008_

"Hey Mama," she murmured, scribbling on the last of the boxes with her Sharpie.

"Oh, honey, how'd it go? You didn't trip when you walked across the stage, did you?"

Bella sat down heavily with a sigh, her back against the wall. She'd already told her mother that there wouldn't be a formal graduation ceremony, on account that she'd finished early. January wasn't the month everyone typically got their diplomas. Renee always seemed to hear what Bella said, but she never seemed to listen. That was something Bella had figured out a long time ago.

"No," she said, amused, exasperated. Resigned. "Thanks for the vote of confidence Mom, but it was fine." She paused. "So. Getting tired of the desert yet? How's my baby brother?"

"Oh, he's fine, fine, just starting to pull up, you know. Getting into everything," Renee cooed, her demeanor getting a little dreamy. "He's changed so much since you saw him last year. Oh! And you wouldn't believe what he's been babbling! Instead of saying 'mama' he's been saying _ball!_ Isn't that precious? Phil is just beside himself."

"I can imagine." Bella wandered around her mostly empty apartment, finally stopping in the kitchen. She laid her palm on top of the printed pages stacked neatly on the counter. Internet directions to Summerside, Florida.

And Edward.

Her stomach flipped. She'd be there soon. "I'm all packed up Mom. That's why I called. Just letting you know."

"Oh honey. Good luck. Phil said to call him once you find a place you like, okay? Talk to you later."

* * *

Most of the details Bella had of Summerside she'd cobbled together from different snippets of conversations she'd had with Edward during the few days she'd spent with him. In the end, it had been enough information to know exactly who to call when she'd been ready to find a little house on the beach.

She dialed the number she'd found on the Yellowpages site, pacing in a tight overwrought circle until she heard the line click open with an exasperated voice.

"Now you listen here, Bobby Cheney. The Fed Ex man don't run on the weekends, hear? I said I'd _call_ you!"

"Hello?" Bella grinned through the unexpected tears that sprang to her eyes. Edward had talked so lovingly about Mrs. Cope that Bella felt she already knew her. In another life she'd been the mother that Bella'd never really had. She was supposed to love this woman, according to him. She was pretty sure she already did.

"Oh Lord!" Mrs. Cope exclaimed. "Well honey, I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else. You need something? What number are you?"

"Um, I'm not a number," Bella laughed. "But I needed to know who to call about renting a house?"

"Oh! Well, bless your heart. I thought you were in one of the cottages! Let me get to the ledger. You must think I'm crazy, answering the phone like that."

"No ma'am."

"Alright, now," Mrs. Cope muttered, rearranging papers, "now is this for a few days in the summer or are you wanting spring break? I'll need to know how long and how big your family is, so I'll know where to stick you. And… okay… what's your name, sugar?"

"Well, it's just me… I just graduated from college. I'll need something long-term. Like… maybe permanent?"

"Permanent?"

"Yes ma'am… I heard there's a little one-bedroom house beside the bar there, on the beach. Is there something like that open?" Bella held her breath.

"Well, sure! I rent that little house by the month so I reckon that'll work out nicely. You'll have to tell me about yourself, dear… Oh, I'm just so tickled! We need more young people 'round here."

* * *

_February 2008_

She was absolutely giddy, feeling her destiny rush toward her as she sped down the interstate. Home, she thought. Florida was home. Only she wasn't thinking of the house she'd grown up in, her childhood room, the memories of her mother and sister… her father. She was thinking of Edward. And the rest of her life.

_Home_.

She was very aware that she was more than a year early. Edward had been very specific about the five years he'd wanted her to wait…

"_June 2009, Bella,"_ he'd said, tapping a finger to his temple. _"I'll be back by then I think. If everything happens like Dr. Shan thinks it will. I'll remember you by June 2009."_

And here it was February _2008_. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, feeling the apprehensive flutters that always seemed to steal her appetite. Well, too bad, Edward, she thought. Things happen. Things like photographs out of your stepmom's purse, showing you and some …some… _girl_ with a flashy ring.

Bella pictured herself bursting through white church doors, flinging herself upon the altar between Edward and the girl in the picture.

"You cannot marry this couple!" she'd plead, falling to her knees, clutching at the robes of the minister.

"My child," the minister would murmur, after he'd held up his hands to hush the indignant outcries of the crowd. "What is the meaning of this? What are your reasons that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony?"

"Sir," she'd whisper, "sir… as to my reasons, I have been sworn to secrecy. Give me time. A year and four months to be exact. Then we'll see what the groom has to say."

Bella giggled to herself in spite of the flutters in her tummy. For above all, she was an optimist. If Edward could break the rules of time and space and meet her for the first time, _again_, at a lake party, then she could too. There was no reason she couldn't show up for the rest of her life a little early. So what if he didn't know who she was… he'd had to go through the same thing, meeting her at that party. She could do it too, she _could_.

Because she had to see him. Something as insignificant as a ring didn't matter in the whole scheme of time and space, destiny and soul mates. Love. They were meant to be, it was as simple as that.

When her tires crossed the state line Bella grinned and turned the radio up louder.

She would not allow herself to think about the possibility of Edward already being married.

* * *

There was a countdown in Edward's head, ever since he'd woken up with a fucking headache from hell, and a letter from heaven on the table beside his bed. It was, by far and away, the most extraordinary, freaky, bizarre… hell, words that hadn't even been created yet probably applied to his situation. After he'd read that letter addressed _to _him, _from_ him, he hadn't let it out of his sight. Even now, the words were carefully folded up in his wallet, burning a hole in the back pocket of his jeans. They'd been with him going on four years now. Sometimes he thought he'd never reach the end of the five-year sentence the letter had imposed.

"Hey." Edward stuck his head inside the downstairs kitchen. "I'm going to run to Shelley's for a second. You want anything?"

"Nah," Pete called back. "Wait… yeah. Go get me a rib-eye and garlic mashed potatoes."

"Keep dreaming, old man."

"Well, it was worth a shot." Pete waved him out with a crude gesture, making Edward laugh as he grabbed his fleece off the hook and headed out.

Everything in the letter had come true; it'd been incredible. At first, he'd believed, more or less, because of the intimate details of his childhood that were written out in his own handwriting. He'd never told anyone any of those things. But when the hurricane had hit the Gulf Coast, just like the letter had predicted, the _week_ predicted, _then_ he'd freaked out. He'd gotten chills when he'd thought about the fact that Ivan hadn't even been a blip on the radar, much less having been named, when the letter had been written. Countless times since then he had wracked his brain, trying to understand what exactly had happened, how he'd been able to write a letter like that to himself. For what purpose? He'd been tempted to head to New York just to see what had been so bad that the letter had warned him against it, but the words _Peter_ and _cardiologist_ in the same sentence had kept him firmly in Summerside.

When the Sox had won the pennant in a sweep, just like the letter had said, he'd wished he'd bet his savings on the series and made a fuckload of money. It'd never even occurred to him until Peter had whooped and hollered and laughed, '_Edward, my boy, you called it, you called it, you'd said they were gonna win and you were right, you smart assed bastard!'_

And then there was The Girl he was Supposed to be Waiting For. After all the other stuff had come true, to say that he was anxious about that was an understatement. To know that the love of his life was supposed to just… what, show up on his doorstep in June 2009…? Where was she? Why didn't she come now? Was she missing memories just like he was? Maybe she didn't remember him just like he didn't remember her. He looked both ways before crossing the street, even though there was never any traffic. Thinking like this would get him nowhere, he knew that already. God, the sheer _not knowing_ was killing him. He'd been reduced to feeling like a kid, when the months leading up to Christmas really _did_ feel like five long years.

"Hey Mrs. Cope," he called as he opened the tinkling glass door, taking a quick glance at the unfamiliar car parked outside.

"Hey yourself." Her head popped out of her office in the back, and she looked about as smug as a cat that'd gotten into the cream and found a canary waiting in the middle of the bowl.

"What." Edward's eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious, but she'd gone back inside. That woman was up to something. He just hoped he wasn't the focus of whatever she was scheming. Wouldn't be the first or the last time, of that, he was sure.

He was throwing vegetables in his basket when the bells tinkled again, and he turned to find a girl he'd known most of his life, waddling in.

"Look at you," he laughed, genuinely pleased to see her. "God, how're you getting around? Are you fucking due tomorrow?"

"You watch your mouth, Edward Cullen," the girl said, hugging him tight. "I still have two months left, and he can hear everything you say," she said, patting her stomach. She was pecking him on the cheek when a gasp from the back drew their attention.

Edward looked up to see Mrs. Cope, still smiling of course, standing beside a girl he didn't know, a _gorgeous_ girl he didn't know, who was staring at him with a mixture of hurt, anger and bewilderment all over her shocked face.

* * *

**Eeep! See you next Friday :)**

**Thank you for reading!**


	35. The New Girl in Town

**Love and hugs to faireyfan, my voice of reason, and les16, who is always full of great ideas.**

**Any mistakes left are mine :)**

* * *

_February 2008_

The store smelled of tangerines and lemongrass, with a faint undercurrent of Windex. Bella noticed right away that it wasn't really like a normal grocery store at all. First off, it was tiny. Secondly, the products on the shelves were arranged in a bizarre fashion… for instance, the baked beans were near the brown sugar, which was then next to the ketchup.

"You'll get used to it," a kindly voice said from behind her. "It's easier on the old folk if I group the things everybody likes together. Nell Pearson makes baked beans every Sunday for lunch… going on thirty years now, I reckon. So I put just what she needs all on one shelf."

Bella turned and smiled. She wondered just how old the _old folk_ were, if Mrs. Cope, the epitome of grandmother, considered them elderly. "Mrs. Cope?"

"Yes ma'am, and you must be Bella. Just as pretty as your voice on the phone," she beamed, taking Bella's hands, squeezing, then holding them out to the side, so she could get a better look. "So nice to meet you, dear."

"Thank you," Bella said, and meaning it, as they walked back to the office to go over the rental agreement. "Um, I like macaroni and cheese," she joked. "But I'm fine with the kind in the box. No need for a whole shelf."

* * *

As soon as the wheels of her car had pulled into the parking lot of the little town square, Bella had been on high alert for an Edward sighting. While she hadn't been 100 percent certain Edward would be there, she was now sure that she felt him, sensed him… it could have been her own imagination, more than likely brought on by the stories he'd told her, but… somehow Summerside _was_ Edward. He was everywhere. So in hindsight, she didn't know why she'd been so surprised when the real thing showed up at the grocery store ten minutes after she'd walked in the door. His voice was rich, laced with that familiar element of teasing, shocking as it crackled up her spine, triggering a burst of vibrant memories, not only in her head, but in other parts of her body as well.

How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, the sound of his voice? What it could do to her? The years melted away and she was back in Colorado, lying in the grass, tangled in the bed sheets, breathing in the smell of roses as he whispered love in her ear.

She vaguely registered Mrs. Cope stepping out to speak to him as she clutched her hands together to keep them from trembling. _He's here!_ Oh god, she needed to pull herself together! They were supposed to be strangers; she couldn't act like she knew him. _Strangers_, she told herself, over and over. _We're supposed to be strangers._

Another tinkle of the bells on the door and a flirty feminine voice had Bella straightening from her chair at Mrs. Cope's office desk, stumbling toward the doorway. Her eyes were blank, staring, seeing nothing but Esme's photograph of a happy Edward, and a very happy, very proud, very _engaged_ girl showing off for the camera. Her own gasp brought her back down to earth, as Bella suddenly found herself standing at the back of the store gaping at the picture perfect couple near the front door. Edward and… _her_.

It was the girl from the photo. Darker hair now, not so blonde, but it was the same girl. Bella registered the pregnant belly, the lips on Edward's cheek, his arm around her shoulders. Her stomach curled in on itself. It didn't matter that her brain knew that Edward didn't remember her. _How could you!_ Betrayal. The thought was stabbing, quick and intense, the pain transforming Bella's heart into something weak and confused, almost beyond placation.

Until Mrs. Cope strode forward with determined steps.

"Jessica! Oh, my sweet dear! How're you feeling? And where's your husband? I've got something for him in the back." She fired off her questions and the pregnant girl rushed to meet her in the aisle, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Mrs. Cope, I've missed you so much! Mike's at his dad's… he'll be here in a few minutes. We're just driving through on our way home."

"Good gracious look at you! When-"

"I know! I'm due on Easter, can you believe it?"

Edward tuned out the chattering, focusing on the girl in the back. She _was_ beautiful, but that was overshadowed somehow because she seemed kind of anxious. What about, he had no idea. He shifted on his feet, neck prickling ominously, and he had the silly impulse to turn around, to look over his shoulder. Make sure one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse wasn't standing behind him, waiting for him to realize his time was up. Something felt… off, and he wanted to leave. He just couldn't seem to make his feet move toward the door.

On the periphery he realized his pulse was racing and that sweat had popped out on his forehead. Somewhere outside a car door slammed, someone hollered a hello. A seagull shrieked twice, as if experimentally and then fell silent. There was no telling how long he might have stood there, staring, if the girl hadn't moved forward abruptly with the obvious intent of leaving the store.

He moved to the door as well, without thought, save one… _That Girl… find out who she is._ Speaking to her was suddenly the most significant thing he'd ever do.

_It's too soon. It hasn't been five years. This can't be Her. Can it? It can't be… the letter had never been wrong about anything._

The heavy weight of the letter in his back pocket seemed to multiply as he waited for her to say her goodbyes to Mrs. Cope.

"Hello," he said, watching the girl intently as she passed through the glass door he held open for her. A sprinkle of freckles graced the bridge of her nose, trailing over to her cheeks, just under the dark sweep of her lower lashes. There'd be more as the weather warmed, he thought, more, a little darker perhaps, on her cheeks… her shoulders. Maybe her chest. The strange urge to trace the little dots with his lips and tongue consumed him, and he ached to know the body underneath the jeans and blue fleece she wore.

"Edward," she sighed up at him as he followed her out, "thank you." She had absolutely no idea how his heart stuttered when she murmured his name. _It's You_, he thought. _I knew it! I knew it._

Eyes wide, his hand actually crept up his chest to flatten over his heart, as if to keep it from leaping out to her in recognition. "You…" he swallowed hard, searching her face, "know me. Do you? Don't… I mean, are you-"

Bella shook her head slightly as his words grew faint, barely making sense. She was terrified suddenly that she was meddling with events she'd have no idea how to fix if something went wrong.

"I've never been here before," she replied truthfully, her fingers squeezing an imprint of the new key into her hand. _Was_ that the truth? He nodded at her with a serious look, the disappointment already having come and gone across his face. "Mrs. Cope told me who you were," she continued. "We're neighbors now, I guess. I'm renting the little grey house next to you." Her heart cracked a little at the small polite smile he'd plastered on.

"Right," he said, "sorry." He hesitated, walked a few steps, then turned back around. "Let me walk you over… I mean, you're right here and I'm going that way…" He appeared to be so completely bewildered by her presence that she trailed after him, concerned, even though she'd have to cross back again in order to get her car and all her belongings. "What's your name?" he asked, making her smile at the shy tone in his voice.

"Bella," she answered, then promptly stumbled on the lip of the road. He reached out to steady her, making her gasp, the white fire of his fingertips licking up her arm where he held her. "Sorry," she laughed when he released her a second later, "I'm okay."

He seemed to freeze then reawaken, his hands baffled, reaching out to her again before he pulled back and shoved them in his pockets. He watched her with wide eyes, as if she were some rare and strange bird he'd come across.

"Bella," he said with a weak smile, once they reached the other side of the road. "It's nice to meet you. But I… I need to go."

The sun was setting, brilliant oranges and reds, turning the world pink. She watched him run away from her, his shadow stretching long and wavering across the dunes.

* * *

Edward bounded up the back porch steps and burst into the house, breathing like he'd just run a marathon. When, exactly, did he become such an idiot? Is this what happened when you didn't have sex for going on four years?

"What'd you get?" Pete looked up from the bar and raised his eyebrows when Edward exploded though the door. "You break that thing and you're gonna fix it. You running from something?"

"Huh?" was Edward's intelligent reply. "What?"

"From the store. Didn't you go to the store?"

"Yeah." He bent at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "Shit." His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his fingers and toes. And it wasn't from jogging just a few yards across the beach.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

His shoes looked different on his feet. Everything was …different all of a sudden. He felt like a different person. _Why?_ "I forgot the stuff," he admitted sheepishly, glancing up.

"What happened?" Peter was beginning to sound concerned. He came around the bar.

"Nothing," Edward said calmly and straightened up. "I'll be back in a sec. We'll have sandwiches, okay?" he added, running up the stairs.

"What's going on?" Peter called, frowning.

"Later," came the terse reply from the second floor.

"Right." Peter threw the towel on the bar. "Fine." He walked back to the kitchen, wondering what in the hell had just happened to his nephew.

* * *

The letter had been right about everything. After things had started to come true he hadn't questioned any of it. Edward slammed the door to his room and pulled the wallet out of his back pocket. The letter was tucked neatly in a slot, like always, folded up like the notes girls used to pass him in grade school. He unfolded it gently, skimming down to the bottom, even though he knew every word by heart.

_She knows who you are and in five years she'll find you, here, in Summerside. She promised. All you have to do is wait._

_She'll know who I am._ Edward flopped back on the bed, his arm over his eyes. But Bella hadn't known him. What were the odds of the letter being wrong about something? _Pretty fucking slim._

For the first time since he'd woken up on _that_ morning, he wished he'd never seen the letter, there on his table. Edward got up, restless, and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Why should his life be dictated by a fucking piece of paper?

He'd done everything it asked. It'd been hard at times, especially when the urge to just pick up and get the hell out had gripped him in the middle of the night. The longing… craving for someone, for _her_, he supposed, the one he was waiting for. Some nameless, faceless girl. Wherever she was, she wasn't _here_, so why should he stay? After a while, he'd just chalked the feelings up to plain old horniness and taken matters into his own hands, so to speak.

But the letter had put the fear of God into every part of him, including his own dick, so to blatantly ignore the predictions, the proclamations… felt like, at best, senseless idiocy. At worst… like he was disregarding all those people who'd lost their lives in the hurricanes he'd lived through.

_Don't fuck this up for yourself, _the letter yelled at him silently.

_Not trying to_, he glared at the paper sitting on the bed. He was fucking crazy, having a mental conversation with an inanimate object. So obviously, Bella wasn't the Girl the letter talked about. That was too bad because already there was something _there_, with her… something he'd been aching for and hadn't found, at least not in the last four years. Or maybe he was so hard up _anybody_ was looking good.

And again, it all came down to waiting. He was so tired of _waiting_.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

* * *

"I've been thinking," Edward ventured, staring out the window at a house he'd seen a million times. Only now it was _her_ house. The new girl. Bella. He didn't even know her last name.

"Yeah?" The tireless click of the remote cycling through daytime TV chafed Edward's nerves. Peter had become an odd sort of couch potato recently, something that went against the grain of who he was on a fundamental level. He'd always professed to hate soap operas. His late wife Charlotte, Edward's aunt Lottie, who'd died when he was only three had never missed a viewing. Pete had always joked that the day the VCR came on the market was the day he'd really lost her, because then she could watch them all, whenever she wanted, as many _times_ as she wanted. And now here he was on the couch, concerned about Betty Sue, who was married to John Big Dick, but was falling in love with Crazy Leon, who'd kidnapped her, holding her prisoner in some dark, dank prison with a fuckload of romantic candles all lit up. It was a miracle the whole damn place didn't catch on fire. Or maybe they were saving that for next week.

Edward looked out a different window. Was new girl out on her porch?

"What's on your mind?" Peter called. "It's on commercial so come on and spit it out."

Edward sighed. "The minute you start recording that shit is the day I rip that TV out of the wall and throw it into the ocean." He threw himself on the couch next to Peter and smiled widely, to show he was kidding.

Except he kind of wasn't.

"I'm thinking we ought to hire someone to help out once it gets warmer… when the season picks up," Edward said. "What do you think?" He glanced at the TV waiting to hear what Peter thought about that. Crazy Leon had dressed poor Betty Sue in a flimsy little nightgown and had her chained to a bed in the dungeon. She didn't seem too unhappy about it, either. Long brown hair, big, soulful brown eyes, she almost looked like…

"Goddamn," Edward muttered, springing up off the couch. "I need to get away for a few days." Flying up to visit his dad and Esme was out; they were going on some damn tour around Italy for two weeks. The shit people did for Valentine's Day. He wondered if Bella had a boyfriend… someone to give her roses or something. He wondered if she even liked that sort of thing.

Edward tugged on his hair, resisting the compulsion to look out the window again. The one that had such an excellent view of Bella's porch, where she just might be out on her hands and knees planting pansies.

"I'm going for a run," he announced, grabbing his shoes. He stared out at the ocean while he tied his laces too tight, ignoring his neighbor's cute little ass in the flowerbed. Bouncing on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, he let out a huge sigh. And ran in the opposite direction.

* * *

Bella had never been much of a churchgoer, but it was what people did here. It was more like social hour, really, with twenty minutes of scripture and hymns sandwiched between town gossip and who was bringing what dish to dinner that night in the fellowship hall. Which happened to also be the sanctuary, since the church only really had one room. Tourists were welcomed to Sunday church with open arms of course, but once the word had spread that Bella was staying, the residents of Summerside were ready to write her name in the old Bible that sat up at the pulpit. In calligraphy. With permanent ink.

"So, how're you settling in?" Angela Cheney prattled on as she stacked hymnals.

"Oh, just fine," Bella beamed. "Everyone has been so welcoming. "

"Are you much of a gardener? I couldn't help but notice your flowers out front." Angela smiled. "It'll be nice to have that house looking so pretty."

"Yeah, thanks. I don't know if I'm any good at it but it's something I enjoy."

"Well, listen, Bella. Just bring those paintings whenever you're ready. I know they're going to fly out the door!" Hymnal stacking done, Angela straightened and glanced over Bella's shoulder. "Have you met Edward yet?" she asked in a lower voice. "Don't look now, but he sure is looking over here at you."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Yes, um… briefly?"

"Mmhmm," Angela's eyes zeroed in on Bella's uneasy expression. "Interesting." Suddenly she smiled toothily. "Alright! I'll see you later! Any day's good… come by whenever, okay? Hi, Edward!" she sang, before turning on her heel and practically skipping away.

"Bella?"

His voice, low and quiet, curled around the curve of her shoulders, soaking her in warmth. She shivered, and turned around. "Hi, Edward," she said, parroting Angela's words, but unable to help the shy, husky quality in her own voice. He was spooked; it was obvious. And it was that very reason she had allowed him to avoid her for the past several days. Her heart overflowed with feelings of love, possession and satisfaction… terror that her rash action of showing up here before the agreed upon time would take him away from her.

"Heading home?" He asked with a smile.

Bella smiled back and wrapped her sweater around her arms, blinking up at him in the bright winter sunshine. "Yes," she said, taking the first few steps. He wanted to flirt? She could do that too.

He walked with her, strutting backwards across the road, looking like some goofy school kid in the latest teenybopper movie, flitting desperately around the popular girl as she strolled to class, wanting to offer some grand service like carrying her books or taking her to the dance… but when it came down to it, being unable to overcome that inevitable first awkwardness. "So… is there a last name attached to you? Or is it just Bella?" he bent his head, keeping her through his lashes, his trademark grin turning up a corner of his mouth. It seemed he had completely regained his equilibrium.

"Uh, Bella Dwyer," she sighed, glancing up for only a moment before deliberately looking elsewhere. "My last name is Dwyer." She'd already gone over it and over it in her head, this small lie about her name. She couldn't imagine that Esme Cullen didn't call her stepson the morning after she'd bought the painting, dying to know if he did in fact know an _Isabella Swan_, and could he please report all the sordid details. Swan was a name you didn't forget. And Edward wasn't stupid. He'd immediately make the connection and then she'd be faced with a slew of questions she'd have no idea how to answer.

"Oh yeah? Like the baseball player."

She laughed. "Yeah. Like the baseball player."

They stopped in front of her new front porch steps and she got out her keys, even though there really hadn't been a reason to lock it in the first place. Edward looked vaguely amused as she fit the key inside the lock; the tumblers inside the deadbolt sliding back smoothly.

"So. You're all moved in," he blurted, as if he was trying to keep her out on the porch. "And was that really all you had?" he nodded to the empty boxes sitting inside the doorway. "I couldn't believe the moving trucks didn't roll in the next day. I mean, no offense, but don't girls usually have a lot more shit?"

"What?" Laughter burst out of her again. Happiness twisted up her insides. How did he do that, make everything so easy between them? Now that the girl in the photograph had been explained away Bella had been absolutely giddy. Being unable to be with him in the way she wanted hurt of course, but just being near him was so much better than not… knowing. "I'm just an excellent packer," she said to him from the doorway. "You wouldn't believe all the… _shit_ I can stuff into a box."

He grinned bashfully and shuffled his feet. "I guess the house already had furniture," he said, his gaze moving past her into the room. "Hey. I know you probably have a freezer full of welcome food but I thought you might want to come have lunch over at the bar." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "We don't—I mean, the bar doesn't really do food but we eat. Me and my uh, uncle. We have a kitchen." He actually blushed and suddenly looked as if he wanted to disappear. "Sorry, that sounded ridiculously stupid. Of course we eat."

Bella had to force herself not to tackle him, press her body against his, kiss him all over his face. "Well, I'd love that," she said softly. "Did you mean now?"

"Yeah, whenever," he said, relieved. "You probably have… stuff to do and… okay, great! Just come on over when you're ready." He walked backward toward the bar, a lopsided smile lighting his face.

* * *

**You crazy, reviewing, reader people... thank you for all the wonderful words you say!**

**My sweet friend aWhiteBlankPage gave me my 5000th review (thank you bb!) ... if you like Firefly, I think you would love her story Pocket Change. **

****hugs** See you next Friday!**


	36. Kitchen Conversations

**I am so lucky to have faireyfan and les16 in my corner. They're like smelly good candles when the power goes out; lots of light to help me see my way. Well, les16 may be more like a flashlight... always on. I swear she never sleeps. Thank you guys :)**

* * *

_February 2008_

"I don't have time for a girlfriend." He washed and ran the plates under the tap before he stacked them in the dishwasher.

"Right." Peter leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched his nephew work at scrubbing silverware, coffee cups, glasses… all unnecessarily. They _did_ have a dishwasher after all. Edward's shoulders were strained and taut, his jaw clenched hard as a rock. The frustration rolling off that kid had been at an all time high the last few weeks and it'd been driving Peter crazy. He was determined to crack him wide open in the next few minutes; it'd do them both a favor. "Try again," he said, "and let's have the truth this time."

_The truth…_ Edward snorted. "I wish I knew what the truth was."

"She seems like a nice girl. That's all I'm trying to say."

"You've been talking to Shelley Cope."

"No, I haven't. If she thought I was in cahoots with her, she'd already have a date set for your wedding."

Edward didn't find that very funny. "Look, I know Bella's a nice girl. But she doesn't need to get involved with m- with her neighbor. That's just… I don't know, one of those rules or something, isn't it?" Because when it didn't work out… when the Girl from the Letter showed up on his doorstep next summer, he was going to have to tell Bella goodbye. The thought of hurting her feelings made his stomach turn over. He was starting to resent the Letter; and the Girl too, whoever she was. When he exhaled, the bubbles in the sink blew all over the counter. "It'd be awkward when it doesn't work out," he said softly.

"Listen, I appreciate the fact that you're wanting more from a girl then just sex," Peter said. "And I'm not trying to patronize you, okay?" he added when Edward bristled. "I'm proud of you for that, kid."

Edward huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes at the dirty dishwater. He didn't want to think about how long it'd been since he'd had sex. Frankly, every time he stepped into the shower he was a little surprised that his dick hadn't shriveled up and fallen off.

"But that don't mean you can't take a girl out once in a while," Peter continued. "You had Bella over here for Sunday lunch… so what do you call that?"

"I call that being neighborly."

"Okay," he sighed, when Edward shrugged. "Look, I worry about you being cooped up in here with an old man all the time."

"Yeah, old man, I worry about me too."

The kitchen was quiet as Edward finished loading the dishes. Lost in the echoes of his own thoughts, he almost missed what Peter said next.

"I never understood why you didn't go after that girl years ago."

"What?" Edward turned around, his voice sharp, a naked edge. "What girl? When?"

"Oh I don't know… it's been years now. Three or four years ago, I think, in the summer."

"What did I say? About the girl? Did I say her name?" He clenched the sharp curve of the counter so hard it dug into his hand. It hurt. But fuck, there was a tremor winding up his legs, aiming for his knees and if he let go of the counter he might just fall over into a pathetic heap on the floor.

"Well, it's not like you weren't there when we talked about it." Peter looked at him strangely. He boxed up leftovers nonchalantly, oblivious to the turbulence in his nephew's eyes. "No, I don't remember you saying her name… you did say she had dark hair though."

_Dark hair…_

"I did?"

"Yeah, yeah, and you said she was pretty." He held the refrigerator door open far too long. "You seemed fairly sure that she was it, you know, the One, the Love of your Life," he chuckled, shaking his head, grunting in satisfaction when he found a space on the shelf. "That's why I was so surprised when I picked you up from the airport a week later and you said you had to forget about her."

"I said what? Edward asked, voice hollow. _Forget about her… what a fucking understatement. _"I told you I had to... forget about her?"

"Yeah, you sure did. And when I asked what happened you said you didn't want to talk about it. So I figured that was that." Peter shrugged. "But you can't let one girl ruin the rest of them, kid. If you're waiting around for someone perfect… well, you'll be waiting a pretty long time."

"It's hard to explain." How could he say he felt snared, pinned, like a live bug under a microscope? The bizarre, omniscient eye of the Letter would hold him accountable one day, surely, even if it was only to himself. Some later self that seemed to know everything. Why couldn't he understand _now?_ "It's just… more complicated than that, Uncle Pete."

"It always is," he grinned, slapping Edward on the back as he headed out. "Funny, that's what you said the first time."

Edward managed a halfhearted smile as he leaned against the sink, his head spinning.

* * *

_March 2008_

She pretended to sort out her spice rack but really she watched Edward from her kitchen window, worrying about him freezing to death. The weather would start warming up soon, but for now winter was having one last hurrah. The chilly breeze had driven her back inside from her own porch, earlier. He was out there in the sunshine though, in a short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts, tennis shoes, doing small maintenance jobs around the house while Peter wore similar clothes and sat on the steps. They'd just come back from a jog, looked like. Every so often Edward would laugh and threaten Peter with the trigger spray on the hose, walking bow-legged, Billy the Kid style, a gun-slinging beach bum. She giggled out loud when he almost hit himself in the head swinging it around like a lasso.

He was just as she remembered, her blessing and her curse. The definition of his calf muscles, the way he rested his weight on one leg when he mulled over a problem… even something as ridiculous as his knees, or the arch of his shoulder as it meandered into the curve of his throat. They all played starring roles in her dreams, memories… her fantasies. Peter said something, got up, went inside. Edward glanced toward her house right then, and even though Bella knew he couldn't see her, she ducked away anyway.

She moved from the window and poured black pepper into a fat silver shaker, wanting to talk to him, like before, like they talked in Colorado.

This was killing her, the uncertainty, the not knowing if she should be completely honest. Should she have told him? Would this Edward even have understood? No, what she should have done was just… seen for herself that he was okay, meaning _not_ engaged or married, and then gone on her merry way for another year, just like she'd promised. That was what Edward had wanted her to do after all, what he'd made her _promise_ to do almost four years ago. _Her_ Edward. She wanted _her_ Edward back, desperately.

She wasn't going to lie to herself… she liked the fact that he seemed to be fascinated with her, even though he had no idea who she was, no memory of their history together. She wondered if it was similar to how she'd felt when she first saw him at that party at the lake house… when he'd known _her_, but she hadn't known _him_. She'd been drawn to him that night like a magnet, the deep-seated tug coming from so many different parts of her body.

She shivered, peeking out her window again. Oh god, this was torture, wasn't it… watching him like this, not being able to really talk to him, touch him, and not just in a sexual way.

At the lake house party there'd been an instant connection. Her head had wanted him, because she'd liked the way he talked, and the conversation had been easy. Her heart, because he'd looked at her like she was the most important thing in the room, amazing, because it had always been her sister that held the attention of boys. The foreign pulse low in her stomach, that ache, that mysterious spot between her legs wanted him because… well, she'd had no explanation for desire then, only the realization that she suddenly craved this boy, close, in a darkened room so that she could feel his skin under her fingertips, his breath at her neck, she wanted the wild and hard secret of what was under his button fly jeans, the wet of his mouth, his whispered words in her ear. Her sexual experience had been practically non-existent, but the scenes had flashed through her head like the Harlequin pages she'd hidden under her pillow at night. Instinct. A visceral urge to just… be near him. Only him. She'd never felt that way before the lake party, and hadn't since. It was only him, her wandering boy. Her… Edward.

Oh, she ached. Sinking down on the tile floor of her kitchen, she hugged her knees to her chest.

Of course now, Bella had an idea of what loving someone felt like. It was addictive. She'd kissed a boy at a nightclub in Atlanta one spring, just as an experiment, while visiting her roommate's parents over a weekend. Using a fake ID had given her a sense of recklessness, a sort of exhilarated, I'm _me_, but I'm not _really_ me so I can do what I want and no one will know, feeling. No one will care. Her friends had been nagging her about why she never went out on dates anyway. They'd called bullshit on her solitary ways, even though she'd told them that there _was_ someone in her life, an elusive someone that of course never appeared at any school functions or ever called her on the phone.

She'd picked out her experiment at the bar while she sat in a booth with three of her girlfriends from school. The boy was the opposite of Edward in many ways, sunny blond hair, shorter, stockier. He was a student at Georgia Tech with blue eyes. His name was Josh. A good ol' boy that only drank domestic beer.

She checked these differences off some obscure list in the back of her mind without even realizing it as she danced under the rapid surge and release of the lights, the throb of the music that took over her own heartbeat.

The internal Edward residing in her conscience finally spoke up when blond boy Josh took the bait and moved to dance behind her.

_What do you think you're doing, Bella? How many drinks have you had?_

_What does it look like I'm doing? I'm living. And three, if you really have to know._

_Going to the Smithsonian, taking a tour of The Statue of Liberty, hell, attempting something other than a California roll, I don't know… that's what I meant by living. And you've had enough to drink._

_I'm trying something here, with this guy. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop interfering. _

_He's grinding his dick into your back and you want me to just wait in the background?_

_This isn't what it looks like. This isn't a big deal._

_Who are you trying to convince, Bella?_

_You don't understand! I miss you so much, Edward. I want to feel, I want someone to want me and you're gone. You're Gone._

The Edward in her head had been quiet after that.

She allowed Josh to push her into a dark corner, after declining multiple requests to "go out back" and to "get outa here" and only after she'd caught her girlfriend's eye so that she could wave for help if needed… in case Josh didn't happen to like the word _no_.

Afterward, she'd giggled with her friends in the backseat of the cab, about Josh's sub-par kissing abilities, about how he'd managed a glancing boob grope before she threatened to turn his testicles into jelly with her knee. She'd laughed and laughed, and then later that night in the shower she'd sobbed, the grief of living without him seeping out of her and down, into the drain.

_I can't do this Edward. I miss you so much it hurts. _

She'd cried herself to sleep on her fluffy, borrowed pillow. Even her internal Edward had nothing to say in his disgust over her three-whiskey-sours drunken night out.

The next morning however, she'd woken up with a sense of peace… knowing in her heart, if not Edward, then it would be no one.

Bella traced the wood grain on the lower cabinets with her finger, thought about getting up off the kitchen floor and actually being productive.

She loved this new Edward by reflex, but it was like being stuck on chapter two of her favorite book, unable to turn the page. Still, there was something lovely about savoring beginnings, especially when you knew how good the story was going to get.

"Hey… Bella?" An amused Edward tapped on the glass of her back door, seeing her gazing into space on the tiled kitchen floor.

She squeaked and scrambled up. "Oh my god, you scared me!" She stood with her hand over her heart, just staring until she realized that he might want to come in. "Sorry, sorry, I don't know where my head is," she said all in a rush as she pulled open the door.

"S'okay," he said in that quiet, rumbly voice of his. "You're like a little groundhog, popping up and down in here." His eyes were briefly drawn to the spot on the floor where she'd been huddled. A small smile played across his lips but he was apparently too polite to ask any elephant-sized questions.

Her face burned with the answer anyway.

"I was just returning this to you," he said, holding up her little crock-pot.

When he'd invited her to Sunday lunch last month she'd thrown the ingredients together for an apple cobbler so she wouldn't show up empty handed. As she'd walked out her door she suddenly ran back inside, choosing the crock-pot instead of the casserole dish. Because crock-pots cook slowly. Very slowly.

Dessert to accompany Edward's spaghetti and meatballs took two and a half hours that day, but she'd enjoyed herself thoroughly. She'd found Uncle Peter to be lovely and entertaining. He'd teased Edward about any number of things, and Edward had taken it gracefully, even if he'd vacillated between acting neurotic in a friendly, sociable sort of way and brooding as he'd listened to their conversations, his eyes intense, never leaving her.

"Sorry it's been a few days… hope you haven't needed it," he said softly, putting it on the counter. When she didn't reply, he stepped closer, head tilted. While his mouth may have been too polite to ask awkward questions, his eyes were the exact opposite, unashamedly running up and down her body as if the weight of the world rested on the knowledge of what she looked like without her clothes. He swallowed hard at her curves, her long legs. Her toenails were blue, a lush family of glittery sapphires.

"I… haven't," she managed in a strange, choked voice. She had to close her eyes because they were alone, here in her kitchen, and he was inches away. The warmth of his body pricking her skin into awareness. Her heart, her sex, the blood running through her veins all pulsed the same cadence, _he's here, he's here, it's him, it's him_…

Edward leaned over her, his senses on high alert. She was holding on to the counter behind her for dear life, her breaths shallow puffs against his chest. He knew he should step away. Walk out the door. He should leave the temptation of this girl that wanted him. And oh, yes, she did want him; he wasn't an idiot; they both knew what was going on. They both felt… this. They'd danced around it for days. Whatever this… _it_ …was.

He didn't move.

With her eyes closed, he took the time to catalog the beauty of her… the way her lips parted, the flush of her cheeks, the rise and fall of her sweet little breasts as she panted. Her nipples were hard.

Lust was alive and well, living and breathing and fighting to just _get the fuck out_. _Kiss her, Edward; touch her, fuck her, and then maybe you'll remember._

He forced away his trembling, allowing his hands to circle her waist, studying the geometry of his fingers on her body. _Remember, damn you, remember. Is she the One?_ She gasped as soon as he touched her, and his fingers tightened on her hips.

"What are we doing here, Bella?" His nose flared from the scent of her hair.

"I don't know." Dark eyes fluttered open, the awareness between them leaping to glorious life. He lifted his hands from her waist and braced them on either side, crowding her against the counter. She could have gotten away, ducked under his arm if she'd wanted to, stood at the far end of her kitchen, indignant, spitting out, _Who do you think you are? What the hell do you think you're doing, acting like this?_

But she didn't move.

She moaned when he trailed his nose up the arch of her throat.

"Should I kiss you?" he whispered, the warmth of him curling around her ear. It was a dare. When she was quiet he nipped her earlobe making her jump, her hips arcing, seeking. "Or should I fuck you? What is it that you want, Bella?" He couldn't help the thread of anger running though him, rearing its ugly head in his words. He'd been doing _fine_ here, until she showed up. He was going to make it all five years, just like the letter wanted. He'd thought that if he got to know her a little, start up a friendship, the attraction would slip away. Wrong. She was killing him. She was all he ever thought about now. How could he endure months and months of this torture, her body, her sweet teasing voice, fuck, just her _smell_…

_Edward_, his inner voice hissed, _enough… enough._

_Enough!_

He felt her still completely and knew he'd gone too far.

"Get out," she said darkly. "Now."

He murmured an apology and backed away with a small sigh.

_A sigh of frustration… relief?_

Edward was sick to his stomach. She'd presented her back to him, so he shuffled slowly to the door, feeling chastised and ashamed, lingering, for what he had no idea.

Bella turned from the window and looked at him, sadly… or maybe somewhat resolved.

"I won't let you ruin this," she said, pale, her eyes cautious.

But he had nothing to say, or perhaps, too much.

She watched him leave, wet eyed and bewildered.

* * *

***sigh* I know, nothing's ever easy is it?**

**In case you were confused by Pete and Edward's conversation at the beginning, you can reference what Pete's remembering by flipping back to chapter 16, and then to chapter 32.**

**Don't bail on me. If you'd like to chat there will probably be a thread over at A Different Forest, or hop over to Twilighted. Or you can leave mean messages for me on Facebook: primarycolors fanfic. Angry tweets go to primarycolors1 ;)  
**

**Thank you guys again, for reading and caring about this story. It means a lot. *hugs***

**More, next Friday**


	37. Friends and Memories

**Well, better late than never, right? Right?**

**Very sorry about last week. I'll spare you the details but thank you for hanging around. I don't mind you loitering.**

**Chilled wine toasts and air kisses to my friends that hold my hand and coax me back from the ledge. Faireyfan and les16. I like surprising them with sex scenes too. They get all excited. ;) Maybe you will too.  
**

**Any mistakes left are all mine.  
**

* * *

_March 2008_

She almost spilled her coffee scrambling up from the table when she saw him run by.

One sleepless night had been enough for Bella. It was one thing to orbit each other in unspoken tension, like they'd been doing for the last month, quite another to allow a single sexually charged foot-in-mouth moment to fester and grow into something unbearable.

His frustrated words yesterday had shocked her… but they'd also turned her on.

…_Or should I fuck you…"_

She just wasn't _that_ kind of girl. Well, she _could_ have been that kind of girl if Edward had been himself… but he hadn't. He wasn't. Instead, the love and affection she'd felt from him four years ago had been replaced with discontent and frustration… anger.

But under her sheets later that night she could still feel the heat of his whisper in her ear.

"_Should I kiss you… _

…_Or should I fuck you…"_

"Edward! Wait…" she called from her back porch after she threw the door open, squealing a bit when the cold air shot through the thin cotton of her sleep pants. She grabbed her fleece from the nearby hook, and almost fell down, sliding across the decking in absurd poofy multicolor socks, long hair streaming out behind her as she ran.

He'd come to a halt on the sand at the back of her house when she called, heart thrumming faster at seeing _her_ than it had from the stress of his morning run. It was an effort not to turn tail and make a break for the safety of his own porch. Away from this maddening girl that made him forget that he'd ever been born with any sort of civility. He dearly hoped that Bella wasn't one of those girls that liked to talk and talk and talk about a misunderstanding. Mountains… molehills… beating a dead horse into the ground, Mrs. Cope would say.

"Bella." He offered a reserved smile when she jogged up, bright eyed, her breath puffing out in little clouds. "Nice socks."

It was very obvious that she was still in her pajamas. It was an odd, intimate thing, seeing her in the clothes she'd worn to sleep, bringing images of soft curves and drowsy eyes with her hair all messy and… He shivered, now imagining her with him, lying warm and languid in white twisted sheets, over him, under him. He wondered if she liked to read in bed. Or what side she slept on.

"Thanks," she smiled back. "Hi."

"Hi." He was embarrassed suddenly; unable to meet her eyes and so resorted to gazing blankly at his shoes, under the pretense that he was looking for… shells. Or something. Hell. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt back over his head. Why was she out here?

Her tangled hair whipped and twisted in the breeze, complicated and dark, chocolate, sparking cinnamon hot in the warmth of the sunrise. She attempted hopelessly to hold it back with her hands. He was reminded abruptly of a spicy chocolate bar he'd had as a kid back in Chicago one Christmas. He'd pretty much ignored the wrapper until he'd taken the first bite… then, eyes watering at the hot, peppery rush in his mouth he'd grabbed it back out of the trash, wondering how something so sweet could burn and sting. Spicy chocolate was confusing… an anomaly his young self hadn't been in a hurry to experience again anytime soon.

Bella Dwyer was confusing.

"Oh god, it's freezing out here," she gasped, hugging herself, hopping up and down.

Okay, sure, whatever. She wanted to do small talk while freezing her ass off? Fine, he could do small talk. "It'll warm up in an hour or so," he said, moving his gaze out to the water. Changing it up. Just as long as he didn't have to look at how beautiful she was, even tired and rumpled with smudges under her eyes. He wondered how long he needed to stay out here before it'd be socially acceptable to excuse himself out from under the tractor beam pull she seemed to have over him.

"Edward…"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered before she could officially demand the apology she deserved. But he spoke toward the horizon, and his words were whipped away and over the water before they could reach her ears. Pathetic. He blew out a breath and turned to say it again so she could actually hear it.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted. Tears glittered in Bella's brown eyes, but she stood stiff and determined. Adamant.

"What?" he asked, too surprised to suppress the question. "You're sorry- why?"

"Lots of reasons. Listen, I have- do you want coffee?" She took two steps backward expectantly, and even held her hand out, as if they were connected somehow, as if he would simply follow her with no thought to his own self-preservation. He crossed his arms across his chest. Like hell he was walking through her kitchen door again anytime soon. Even if he'd wanted to.

"I shouldn't," he said, and rubbed the back of his neck, trotting out his best apologetic smile. He watched the emotion pass over her face, dismay, confusion… a flash of panic. Bella would never win a poker game; that was for sure. "But I need to tell you that I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn't… that was a horrible thing to say to you and I'm sorry. I'm not usually- I don't know why…" he trailed off, his hands clenched inside the pocket of his sweatshirt.

Fuck.

He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but he'd kind of turned into a pussy. Pete would say some bullshit like he was "growing up." News Flash, Pete. What he was doing was _groveling_ not _growing._

Whatever.

Pussy. Castrated by a piece of paper.

He suddenly got the itch to just get in the car and drive, destination unknown, because it didn't matter where the fuck he went as long as it wasn't _here_. Pete was doing fine, he didn't need Edward to run anything. In fact, Pete might even be glad to see him go, seeing as how he'd been freeloading off his uncle for the past four years. Atlanta maybe, or he could head south to Miami. He had plenty of money, that'd never been an issue. Maybe leaving was the push he needed to finally write the ending to his book. A change of scenery. The Letter never said he couldn't take a few months vacation. Pete was fine. His eating habits had changed… Edward wasn't sure if his uncle would keep up with the exercise but that probably wasn't too big of a deal.

And really, now that he'd hired Jake, Pete wouldn't need Edward.

"So. I'll see you around?" he asked, internally wincing at the ridiculous understatement. Besides the fact that they lived next door to each other, in a town with a population of just over 100, even if he was trying to avoid her, he'd still be certain to see her _around_ pretty often.

She fidgeted and bit her lip, thoughtful. Hopeful. "Yeah. We'll do coffee another time."

"Sure," he said quietly, unable to understand the strange ache inside him at disappointing her. "Bye." He turned to head home.

Bella called after him, desperate fingers curling, tugging in her hair. "Edward! We're… we can be friends right?" Her eyes were a little wild. "Right?"

The naked emotion in her voice found an echo in his gut and suddenly it was hard to breathe. "Yeah… of course," Edward forced out, his voice oddly winded. "Friends… that's good because I'm not really up for anything more right now. So." He shrugged, instantly feeling like those were the wrong words to come out of his mouth. Like she'd believe he just wanted to be friends after the way he'd acted in her kitchen yesterday. He could have said anything but _that_. Now she'd pull girly shit and ask questions. He sighed, looking at his shoes again. _Pussy._

"Why?"

"What do you mean, _why?"_ He knew it, fucking questions. "How about, _why_ are you so damned pushy?"

"No— I meant, why can't you do something more than friendship?"

He glared at her. But she was so unaffected and seemed genuinely curious, that after a long moment he relented. Sighing, he said, "It sounds stupid but I'm kind of… waiting for someone." The tips of his ears were pink.

Her eyes widened. "Who?"

Little lines gathered between his eyebrows. "Nothing. Nobody." Didn't she ever shut up? He'd known her a month and already she was demanding answers to questions no one else ever had the nerve to ask. A cold burn of anger sped through his veins. And why the _fuck_ did he just give into her like that? "Forget it," he said in a tempered voice, "Jesus." He abruptly turned and stalked away.

Pleasure, intense and wild intertwined with a haunting despair, tore through Bella. Of course he was waiting for _her_. But how did he know to wait? Did he remember her in dreams? Was it a feeling? Instinct? Did his hands, his lips ever tingle with the ghost of her body? Surely the tips of his fingers remembered sliding through her hair, cradling her head, his thumbs tracing the curve of her neck, her jaw as he kissed her so softly. Like she was something precious, something he loved.

_Tell him!_

But no, his fingers didn't remember, or any other part of him, for that matter.

_Tell him!_

_Tell him, and he'll love you, just like you want. You can make him believe. _

But as she watched him walk home an uncomfortable thought niggled at the back of her mind. Just who had Edward fallen in love with before? He'd fallen in love with a shy, broken girl who'd had no one else in her life. When he saw her at that party, he was remembering the girl he'd lost unexpectedly in a horrible, tragic way. Firefly. That was the girl he'd wanted when he jumped back in time.

The problem was, that wasn't really her. Had never _been_ her, thanks to Edward. Sure, she was still shy but it wasn't painful or crippling or even worth mentioning. She wasn't someone who'd lost her sister to suicide and endured the wrath of her mother because of it. She wasn't someone who'd been brutally raped and then bullied into never speaking of it to anyone.

A fierce longing rose up in Bella, the desire to be loved for who she was now, not for who he remembered her to be… and not out of some conscience-stricken need to make things up to her, because she'd died out there in the water while he was sleeping next door. She realized that she didn't _want_ to have to tell Edward that she was the one he was supposed to love. She wanted him to fall in love with her all over again, blindly, without history… just girl next-door meets boy next-door… sparks, secret glances, flirting… everything.

She wanted to fall in love with him too. Because this Edward wasn't _her_ Edward… at least, not yet. He was in there, somewhere; she just had to find him.

* * *

_April 2008_

Everything about Jacob Black was warm. Bella's color conscious mind had a habit of placing a person on her mental palette, as if to be prepared to drop everything and paint them immediately from memory. The first thing she thought when she met him was that nothing about him was cool; he was firmly camped all the way into the warm colors.

_Burnt Sienna_

_Yellow Ochre_

_Terra Rosa_

She tilted her head. _Maybe a little copper._

"Do I pass inspection?" Jake said, unfolding his large frame. He held his arms out wide. "Feel free to go completely hands-on, I don't mind."

She giggled, blushing, embarrassed that she'd been caught looking. "I was just thinking that you'd be interesting to paint… I don't know. All your colors look nice together. Matchy-matchy."

"Aw, I bet you say that to all the guys," he scoffed with a toothy smile, his hand over his heart. "I'm Jake."

"Yeah, I know," she said, "Edward told me you'd be working here. I'm Bella. I live next door." She bit her lip to keep her smile under control. She remembered Edward talking about Jake back in Colorado. He'd taken the picture that she saw on Edward's iPhone that day.

"Jake! I'm not paying you to flirt," Edward barked from the bar. "Get over here and learn something or I'm kicking your ass to the curb."

Jake winked at Bella as he headed back to work.

It'd been an empty threat and Edward knew it. Jake was a natural at bartending, and he'd already learned how Pete liked things done the day he'd taken the job. He had an infectious personality, always smiling, joking with everyone he met. It didn't hurt that he was one of those tall, dark and handsome types either. The fact that swarms of girls he knew from college started frequenting the bar on the weekends definitely wasn't a coincidence. So, in short, he was good for business.

But that didn't mean he needed to pull his shit with Bella.

"No worries, man." Jake said as he slid behind the bar, black eyes shining, smooth-talker that he was. He held his hands up, wiggling his fingers. "I know what's what. I was just jerking your chain, bro."

"What do you mean, jerking my chain?" Edward forced himself to take a deep breath. He was a little unsettled, already having rearranged the stock underneath the counter three different ways in the last hour. Of course that had nothing to do with the fact that this was the first time he'd laid eyes on Bella in a week. She'd been to visit her mom in Arizona for a few days. And now obviously, she was back in town. Looking windblown and slightly bohemian. Beautiful.

"E, I totally get why you're all over that," Jake said with a wolfish grin, pulling the rum for a pina colada. "And you got nothing to worry about from me. I already have a girl."

"All over what… you mean Bella? Edward dropped his voice. "Nah, she's not mine."

"Dude."

"She's not," he insisted. "She's got… you know, some guy she's waiting for. We're just friends."

"Man, I know what I see," Jake shook his head, a gleam of laughter in his eyes. "And I can tell I'm gonna have to get some popcorn and Jujubes so I don't miss a thing."

Edward rolled his eyes and squeezed fresh lemons for Bella's glass of lemonade.

* * *

They'd made progress on the friend front, he and Bella. The day after their sunrise …_encounter_ on the beach, she'd walked over with cookies. A delicious peace offering piled high on a plate that he would later discover to say: _Artists do it with longer strokes._

Somebody was pregnant, Pete had explained sheepishly, on _Days of Our Lives_, and they were about to reveal the results of the paternity test. He expounded on the whole storyline feverishly, as he'd clutched a handful of Bella's cookies, all the while creeping backwards toward the TV and the comfortable couch around the corner.

"He's going to be so disappointed," Bella had laughed once he'd left the room. "They'll totally drag it out until Friday." Both of them had leaned against the edge of the bar, the plate of cookies and a gallon of milk between them.

"Oh god, you watch those too?" Edward had looked horrified, cookie frozen in mid air on the way to his mouth.

"Nope, I'm clean. I had to go through a whole month of detox though, to get them out of my system."

"Thank god. I'm planning an intervention for Pete as it is. I don't think I could take it if you were an addict too. You'd be such an enabler." His words had been swathed in chocolate chip cookie goodness. "Shit, these are homemade, aren't they? I'm putting you on retainer."

A tiny, delighted laugh had escaped her, eyes bright. "I'm not sure you could afford me, Edward."

It was extraordinary, how they could ignore the last couple of days; forget how he had pushed her up against the counter in her own kitchen, scalding her with his reckless words.

"_Or should I fuck you?"_

Amazing that they could ignore how her hands had curled into fists, how she'd demanded that he _get out_. Remorse for the way he'd acted had kept him sleepless that night, when he couldn't figure out why she was different; it had swirled around in his head for days. Anger was a bright, sharp thing, fast, fleeting, while shame was dull and smoky and lingered in corners. He'd said crude things before, like _'I want to fuck you,' _or _'let's fuck'_ to a handful of girls in college. Most of them liked it, some didn't. He hadn't cared either way. But Edward had cared this time, as soon as the words left his mouth. Somehow things had changed.

Maybe he had changed and he hadn't even realized it.

Or maybe it was her.

Bella had gotten down to the reason she'd come over when the cookie plate was near empty. She'd straightened slightly, cleared her throat.

"Listen. I'm really glad we're doing the friend thing, you know? I probably gave off the wrong vibe or something before," she'd shrugged uncomfortably. "But I can respect that you're waiting for someone, I really can." And here she'd pinned him with her gaze, so deep, filled with some unnamed emotion. "Because I am too."

Edward had narrowed his eyes slightly at _that_ revelation, a ridiculous echo of the 'anything you can do, I can do better', singsong playground chant flashing through his head.

_Oh yeah? I don't care that you're waiting for the love of your life, because I'm waiting for mine too!_

In spite of all that, and almost against his will, a wild hope had risen up in his chest. The dream that maybe, just maybe she was in the same boat he was. Maybe she had her own letter she couldn't talk about. Maybe she was missing time too, and had never admitted it to anyone, just like him.

His fingers had spasmed, gritty with cookie crumbs, pressing against his thighs. His mouth was barely able to form the words as they tumbled over each other, "Y-You're waiting for someone too?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask who? Do you… know?" _Say you don't know._

"My boyfriend. He had some… things he needed to do and…" she'd trailed off. "When he's ready, then we can be together." Her eyes had sparkled at him, whether in anticipation of her boy returning, or from the memory of times when they were together, Edward couldn't say. Either way, it'd pissed him off. More than it should have, probably.

"When he's ready?" Edward had snorted, already turning away, wiping his hands on his jeans, the crumbs off the counter. "No offense, Bella, but it sounds as if your _boy_ wanted to go live the single life while you pined away at home. Why would you even-"

"I know how it sounds," she'd pleaded, reaching for his arm. "But it's okay. Really. It's only for a little bit longer."

"But…" he'd paused, part of him still searching for a way to make being with her possible. "Okay, but you _remember_ him?" They were facing each other, and he'd found that he was holding her wrists in some bizarre reenactment of one of those old timey handfasting ceremonies. Her pulse had been flying under his thumbs as he'd rubbed gently back and forth. He couldn't seem to stop trying to touch her.

"Of course I remember him," she'd said softly, the truth of her words squeezing the life out of his heart. She'd looked at him as if he already had all the answers; he'd just lost them for a time. "I love him. Even though I think there's a lot about him I don't know. A lot that I need to learn."

"Bella…" he'd murmured. Confusion, sadness swept over him. A little anger that she would let herself be played like that. But still, whoever would leave this beautiful creature all alone was absolutely insane. "Do you talk to him on the phone… email or anything? I still don't see-"

"I can't." Her eyes had been bright and she'd blinked hastily once or twice. "But I promised him I'd wait. It's important. And I _have_ waited. I am… I will."

Edward had frowned. What kind of idiot left his girl and didn't call, visit, anything? And made her promise to wait for him while he was gone? "How long will you wait?" She had to see the futility.

"Forever," she'd whispered, her grief and hope swirled into one word. "Forever."

The ability to speak anything coherent had left him for the moment. He'd been feeling so trapped that he'd forgotten the sheer awe of his Letter, once it had started to prove itself. He'd been promised not just love, but the love of his life, by a force that had never been wrong, had never _not_ delivered on what it claimed. To compare that guarantee to Bella's hopeless yearning for someone who had likely abandoned her… well, the difference was immense. At the same time, her faith in the unknown was humbling, even if it was misdirected. He was shamed yet again, for entirely different reasons.

The haunting strains that signaled the end of _Days of Our Lives_ had floated through the room. He'd wondered briefly if Pete had satisfied his curiosity about the paternity test.

"Edward," Bella had pulled in a jerky breath. "I'm glad… I mean, thank you for your friendship. It means a lot."

And then there had been nothing to do except pull her to him in a loose embrace, and tuck her head under his chin. He'd wanted to shield her somehow; sensing that underneath her confident appearance was something delicate and innocent. Love and trust in its purest form. "Well, I'm here," he'd said. His eyes had closed, his body aching to press against hers even though he'd known it could never happen now. Not the way he'd wanted. "I'm here. Friend… whatever you need."

* * *

"Hey man, what gives? You look pretty beat." Jake's warm brown face swam into view. "Maybe you should go lie down or something."

"Nah, I'm fine." Edward shivered, coming out of the memory as his eyes moved over the barroom. It was late afternoon; hardly anyone was in. Bella sat at the table near the back that she'd somehow claimed, fussing with her little sketchbook and pencil. She wore a fitted white t-shirt and some of those pants that came down just below her knees. Her flip-flops lay in a forgotten heap on the floor because she'd curled her long legs into a delicious pretzel under her body. He had the sudden urge to walk over there and untangle her just so her could touch her skin.

"Here. Take this to Bella," he said to Jake, pushing the fresh lemonade across the counter, his gaze still following the puzzle of her legs. Lime green nail polish today.

Her pencil flew over the paper; she was drawing an apple that she'd brought. The lighting was good on this side of the bar, she'd said a few days ago, for doing studies with contours and shadow, highlights, and a lot of other artistic terms that sounded vaguely familiar to Edward, but not enough to know what in the hell they meant.

"Okay, good." Jake blew out a huge breath when he came back. He had a quirky habit of picking up random conversations from hours ago. "Cause I think it'll be a full house tonight."

They worked together putting glassware away when finally Edward said, "I don't know… it's spring break and everything, but the kids don't come over this way; they stay in the city, usually. We might get some college kids but…"

"Yeah, um, well… I kind of told some of the guys in my frat to swing by… and my girl's bringing some friends…"

Edward's eyes widened.

"Dude, _Edward_, don't worry! They're good people, I _promise_."

"Hell, Jake, everybody better be legal, especially since they're driving-"

"Nah, we're cool, everyone's good to go, except Quil. He's still a baby. We always make him the DD."

"Fine." Edward finally grinned, shaking his head. "At least you'll get good tips. You'll probably wake this place up. We don't usually see a lot of rowdy action. More of the sunset crowd around here, if you know what I mean. Though it really depends on who's renting."

"Yeah, that's why this town is cool, man." Jake nodded seriously. "The party scene can really get old."

* * *

April weather can be warm during the day, but still chilly at night, especially with the breeze blowing in off the water. Bella scooted home to change into jeans but decided to keep her shirt the same. She loved the way the collar framed the necklace Edward had given her. She fluffed her hair in the mirror absentmindedly, her eyes focused on the little silver seashell hanging delicately in the hollow of her throat. She'd never taken it off her neck. Not since Edward had fastened the clasp himself back in Colorado. She'd been asleep in a cave, on a red-checked picnic blanket, without a stitch on, when he'd given it to her.

"_The sleeping beauty awakens," he said, trailing his fingers down her stomach, swirling around her belly button. She smiled and stretched, letting her eyes fall closed again as he kissed the side of her breast. When her knee brushed up against his boxer shorts her eyebrows drew together. _

"_You're dressed and I'm not," she groused, cracking an eye open. _

"_You're wearing something," he said. She could feel his lips curve into a smile against her neck. _

_She made a negative sound low in her throat and rolled to face him, pressing her body against his, shivering when his hand automatically slid around to her back… and lower. _

"_Cold?" he breathed._

"_No."_

_He stroked her leisurely with his long fingers, up to her shoulder blades, down again to where her bottom met the backs of her thighs. Up, down, up, down, until she thought that he meant to lull her back to sleep. There was no way that was happening though; because very soon her heart was pounding crazily from his innocent touch, her breath coming in short, hot puffs against his chest. He must be teasing her, because still he went slow, up and down, so slow. She was almost dizzy with his nearness, the smell of him, he was hard and warm and his fingers… oh god, his fingers._

_When he pressed on the back of her thigh, she hitched her knee up on his hip, opening herself to his touch. The air of the cave was cool and erotic against the wetness between her legs, and she arched into him, swallowing convulsively before she could beg him to touch her there, oh god, please there, already she felt that she was about to fly away._

_He wasn't as unaffected as she'd thought though… his whole body was tensed, waiting, his heart racing under her cheek, and his own breathing was at least as fast as hers was. His hand trembled as he drew one long finger down, down, until he circled her, twisting in just enough to make her moan._

"_Are you sore?" His voice was hoarse, uneven. She felt him press a glancing kiss to her temple, his choppy breaths moving her hair each time he exhaled._

_She tried to press down on his hand, giving a low feminine sound of frustration as he continued to tease her. "No, no… not sore. Please." She knew what he was asking and the answer was yes, yes, yes. "I want to, Edward."_

_His hand skimmed back up to the curve of her waist, squeezing gently before it came to rest tangled in the wild of her hair, cradling the back of her head._

"_Bella," he murmured, running his cheek alongside hers, sighing into her mouth as he kissed her. He kissed her until they were breathing for each other, until she was so lost in him she didn't even realize he had reached back to his clothes behind and gotten a condom from his jeans. He pressed the little square packet into her hand._

"_Hold this for a minute," he said, rolling onto his back and tugging his boxers off. He pulled her on top of him then sat up, leaning forward for a moment to suck her earlobe. "I want to try it this way."_

"_Okay." She was fascinated by the throaty sound of her own voice, low and sexy, confident. Laying her hand over his thudding heart she pushed gently so that he would fall back on his elbows. The foiled packet made a faint scratching sound as she scraped it down the front of his chest, and she left it lying, entrusted to the dip in his flat stomach, just above the path of coarse hair that led to his cock. She might have brushed that hot, hard part of him accidentally with her fingers as she drew back. _

"_Excuse me," she purred. The corners of his mouth twitched, the light in his eyes telling her that he knew exactly what she was doing._

_Leaning back, she placed her hands on his knees, enjoying the way his eyes swept over the hard points of her breasts, the way he stared at her sex as she held her legs wide, exposing herself, straddling his thighs. That damp ache in her center pulsed in time with the beat of her heart; to know she was there in front of him in a decadent display. She watched his throat moved up and down as he swallowed. His eyes were narrowed, not missing a single detail. She arched her back for him._

_Power surged through her, the knowledge of what turned him on delivering a boost of courage. Bella might not know much about blowjobs, or how to kiss like a pro and be coy and flirtatious but she knew one thing. Edward liked to watch. She wondered what he'd do if she…_

"_Aren't you going to put it on?" he smirked at her, the corners of his smile fading fast as he watched her hand dance up her own stomach, brush against soft curves before rubbing the puckered pink of her nipple. Her small gasp of surprise, coupled with the involuntary roll of her hips wrenched him out of his daze and he sat up swiftly with a groan, throwing her hand off of herself, replacing it with the wet heat of his mouth._

_Things moved quickly after that. He crushed her to him, the sharp edges of the foil caught between their stomachs. She would never forget the sweet smell of his hair in her nose as he licked and tugged at her nipples with his teeth… the echoes of their sharp gasps and moans as the sounds bounced around the walls of the little cave… the delicious, spiraling bliss of his fingers pumping in and out of her body bringing her to the edge of somewhere she desperately wanted to go… just a little bit more, god, oh god, yes Edward, please, almost, almost…_

_Dimly, with a kind of horrified fascination, she realized that she was actually riding his fingers, her body somehow knowing how to move to achieve the maximum amount of pleasure. She flushed even more than she already was… who knew she would turn out to be such a shameless, wanton sex fiend?_

_His hand withdrew suddenly, pulling a needy sound of protest from what felt like every inch of her trembling body. He fumbled with the condom, giving a harsh snort of disbelief when he discovered that his hand was too slick to simply grasp it and tear it open. Their eyes met and he laughed when she smiled, recognizing, cherishing the frenzied pleasure they were giving each other… the anticipation of the pleasure they both were about to receive. Edward ended up ripping the condom open with his teeth and spitting the wrapper out, making fast work of rolling it on, getting unbelievably harder as she watched with widened eyes. She might never get used to the strange, imposing sight of a hard penis._

_He kissed her on the mouth quickly and lay back down. "Lean forward, brace your arms on the wall." And then he was helping to lift her up so she could slide back down on him. She waited though, hovering, with the tip of him barely inside, a part of her anxious about pain, another part loving to tease him. _

_His eyes flew up to hers. "Fuck, Bella, you're killing me here. You can go slow, go slow sweetheart, but please move, come on, down just a little bit. Ah, fuck…yes."_

_There was a twinge of discomfort, seeing as this was only the second time she'd had something this big inside her, stretching, spreading. She exhaled on the upswing, meeting his worried gaze._

"_Okay?" he breathed out. His hands brushed across her breasts. "You alright?"_

_She nodded and closed her eyes, head spinning, because it really was okay, if she angled just right it felt… oh god yes, it felt completely amazing! The concentration must have shown on her face because next he was grazing her cheek with his fingers. She opened her eyes to see him concerned, beneath her._

"_Talk to me, Bella," he whispered, "you want to try a different way?" She pushed an exquisite moan out of his mouth when she slid down a little harder this time, circling her hips to find that explosive spot she'd hit a moment before. She shook her head at him, open mouthed and panting, the building sensations short-circuiting her mind._

"_Oh, I see," he said slowly, a wicked grin spreading over his face, "I've rendered you speechless." He bit back a groan, watching her curve over him, his eyelids heavy. _

"_Just conserving my energy, since I'm doing all the work," she smiled back, shuddering as she slid back down. His hands slipped back and forth on her hips, skimming up over her stomach, his fingers plucking the tips of her breasts._

"_You're so beautiful." A reverent whisper. "Oh god, Bella… you feel amazing… amazing."_

_For the first time Bella noticed a silver necklace swaying, bumping up against her chest every time she rocked faster, back and forth. She could barely see it because it was short, but she could feel its weight._

"_For you," Edward murmured, seeing, sweeping over the necklace before cupping her cheek. "I love you." _

"_What is it?" she breathed, her tongue sweeping over her lip. "Thank you… I know… it's beautiful." It was getting hard to speak actual words. She was almost there, her movement getting choppy. She made up for the lack of swivel finesse by slamming down on him, whimpering, gasping. "Oh, oh, oh god…"_

"_Silver… seashell…" he rasped out, in between her downward thrusts. "Just… ah fuck, Bella." Tendons popped on his neck as he fought for control, blindly reaching down with his fingers to rub her just above where they were joined._

_And that was all it took. She exploded a few seconds later._

Bella opened her eyes to see a reflection of herself dazed and panting in the mirror. She'd gone over that memory so many times, sometimes with tears, sometimes as an accessory to her own hand, touching her body the way he'd shown her. She'd become well-versed in the pleasure an orgasm could bring, but she hadn't felt the restless, jittery thrill of the butterflies strumming her desire until she'd seen Edward again in Mrs. Cope's store a month ago.

In the low light of her bedroom, the seashell gleamed and sparkled. A few years ago in Art History class, they'd studied symbolism in paintings and other famous pieces of art. The shell represented a love protected, she'd been surprised to discover. She didn't think Edward had known that, or had that in mind when he bought it for her the first time around, but she couldn't deny how eerily appropriate it was now, in hindsight.

In the cave that day, after making love, he'd reluctantly told her the short history of her necklace. Really, it'd lived in his pocket longer than it'd been around her neck before she'd drowned in the ocean, but he'd been most afraid to tell her that she'd been wearing it when she died. He hadn't wanted to spook her.

"Actually," he'd said, "the clasp had been broken… probably when, I mean, in the struggle to breathe, you—they said…" His whole body had shuddered and he'd apologized, saying he shouldn't say morbid things like that, especially to her. But he'd continued after a minute, telling her that the paramedics had found the necklace clinging to the collar of her wetsuit. Just luck that it'd snagged there, they'd told Edward. It could have been lost to the ocean. And then suddenly he was the new owner of a necklace he'd only just given away.

"It's getting a little easier to talk about," he'd said softly. He'd held her in his lap, as if to shield her from the looming melancholy that had seemed to seep in after the rain. They'd have to go back to the room and pack soon. "Sometimes it already feels like a dream… or like it happened to someone else. I mean, here you are, right? That… horrible time of letting you go kind of loses its bite when you're right here with me." He'd sighed. "But then other times it feels so real... and harsh… like a sharp pain…" Edward had ended up apologizing again, demanding that they talk about happier things. But the cave had turned chilly and grown dark with the setting sun. And then it'd been all downhill from there because they were both boarding airplanes the next day. But they were getting on different planes, going separate directions. There'd be no, _hey baby, call me when you land._ No, _bye honey, I'll see you soon_. Not for five years. And there had been _nothing_ happy about that.

There'd been times when Bella wished she hadn't known that the necklace had been there with her as she drowned out there, alone. But now she felt differently. Silly and superstitious, she'd be the first to admit it… but in her mind the seashell had somehow _become_ their love, something she could touch to know it was real… that _they_ were real. It'd gotten her through the past four years. She'd protect it just like it protected her. She would never let it break.

Happy hoots and hollers drifted over from next door. It sounded like the bar had a crowd tonight. Bella looked in the mirror one last time, putting her memories to the side. She smiled at her reflection; her cheeks were flushed but her eyes sparkled. Her wandering boy was really here. And she was going to spend her Saturday night in his presence.

* * *

**DiamondHeart78 made a lovely glowy new banner for Firefly. I'll put it up on my author page. She's so good to me. TY, bb :)**

**I don't expect reviews, truly- but I love hearing what you think. Thank you so much for sticking with me this far. It might be hard to believe, (or maybe not! lol) but we're near-ish the end.**

**Teasers at A Different Forest on Mondays!**

**I should be good to go for next Friday :) See you then!**


	38. Patsy Sings the Blues

**Yikes! Again, I apologize. Usually I'm fairly adept at catching those RL fly balls but they were hitting them out of the park yesterday. Please don't ever worry that I won't finish, or that I'll disappear or something. I don't move fast at all. You could definitely catch me.**

**Massive thanks to my girls faireyfan and les16. They're way too good to me. Any mistakes left are mine.**

* * *

"You ever been… hey, what's your name again?" The blonde sitting at the bar was well on her way to incoherent. She'd latched onto Bella's arm with all ten brightly manicured fingers, determined to get a little free therapy on her vacation. "My god… your boobs are fantastic," she muttered, staring.

"Bella, remember?" Bella answered, stifling a grin. "And …uh, thanks."

"Well _Bella_, you look a little young to me but… you ever been married?"

"I haven't." Bella tilted her head. "But hearing your story I'm guessing you wouldn't recommend it?"

"Oh good Lord, no. You oughta thank your lucky stars, honey. Ain't nothing down that path but heartache and misery." The blonde sighed mournfully into her fruity cocktail, her beady eyes following Edward as he worked behind the bar. She was older, still beauty-pageant pretty, but reeked of desperation… with just a touch of insanity.

"Now, hot bartenders like the ones we have _here_," Blondie declared, her volume increasing as she went on, "well, they make the world go round. I hope you're gettin' some of that." She nudged Bella with her elbow. "_Somebody_ 'round _here_ ought to be _gettin'_ some of _that_." Her palm smacked the lacquered surface of the bar with every determined word.

Bella glanced over at Edward, the blush already stealing over her face. He was laughing at the other end of the bar but she couldn't tell if he'd heard that or not. With any luck he wasn't paying them any attention. She should probably stop with this one, she thought, tracing the rim of her glass. She'd already had three drinks tonight. Alcohol had the unfortunate effect of erasing her restraints and ratcheting up her loopy emotions. Already her heart was overflowing with a mix of possession, melancholy and plain old lust. She sighed and turned back to Blondie, wearing a half-smile that was evidently somewhat enigmatic, because the other woman's eyes widened before she emitted a decidedly unladylike snorty gasp.

"Oh my gawd!" she screeched. "_Girl_, you've already hit that!"

Bella glared. "Shhh!"

"Right!" Blondie whisper-yelled, making a show of zipping her mouth and throwing away the key. "How was it? It was good, wasn't it!" She tossed back the rest of her drink.

Bella angled her body, shielding her face with a casually placed hand. Giving a theatrical grimace, she began a silent conversation in a language that all girls seemed to know.

_Oh my god, don't even go there, _she said wordlessly, with a single raised eyebrow.

Blondie's hand flew up to her mouth. _It was that bad?_

_Oh yeah. Worse._ Bella bit her lip, and held her thumb and finger an inch apart.

_No! _Blondie stared at her own fingers, mimicking the length Bella was demonstrating. _Oh, no!_

_Oh, yes._

_Any other… redeeming qualities?_

Bella slowly shook her head with a sad look. _None_.

Blondie gazed at Edward, pity and horror clearly on her face.

He paused in the middle of shaking a martini. "What?" he laughed.

"Such a tragedy," Blondie sighed, her eyes fixed on Edward's crotch. "I think I need to go find something sad on the jukebox to show the depths of my disappointment. Excuse me." She slipped off the barstool then patted Bella's arm. "I'll be back darlin'. We'll see about getting you hooked up with one of those nice college boys you were talking to earlier."

Bella giggled to herself as she watched her bar-buddy wobble across the floor. She'd liked Jake's friends just fine. The girls had been friendly and the boys had been… _boys_. But there would only ever be one guy for her, and he was… oh. Oh great. He was mixing her another drink. Was there some kind of universal bar rule that said you had to be drinking to have the privilege of sitting in one of those high spindly chairs up against the counter? What if all you wanted to do was ogle the cute bartender?

"Do you _know_ her?" Edward mixed Bella another drink to keep his hands busy, and to keep her sitting here at the bar. They'd been swamped with a good crowd, the college kids' enthusiasm sparking the party atmosphere, tempting the locals and the handful of renters to stay out a little bit later. He'd never enjoyed a night of work more. But maybe that was because of the pretty girl twirling her hair in front of him.

Bella pursed her lips in such a way that it caused Edward to accidentally stab himself with a cherry pick. He inspected his hand with a frown and pushed her drink forward across the bar. "Edward, have you been… listening to us?" She asked him slyly, sliding the cherry off and nudging it slowly into her mouth.

"Of course not!" He laughed weakly and braced his arms on the counter, watching her mouth chew the cherry he'd just put in her drink. His fingers itched to touch her, graze her cheek, tuck her hair behind her ear… something. He gripped the hard rolled edge of the bar instead.

"You know what my old gran said about eavesdropping, Edward?" Jake glided up to the end of the counter. "Two Bud Lights."

The table full of fraternity boys howled in displeasure as strains of jukebox Patsy Cline crept around the room.

_Crazy… I'm crazy for feeling… sooo lonely…_

Edward smirked. "Your gran said, _Two Bud Lights?"_

"Nope, nope, not trying to be funny, Edward. I'm trying to be serious, here."

Edward shot him a sour look as he popped the tops off the beer, handing them over. "Fine. I don't know what your gran said. But I'm sure you'll tell me."

Jake looked toward heaven for a moment and laid a hand over his heart. "She said… 'Jacob my dear boy, if you eavesdrop, you're bound to hear truths about yourself… big…'" Jake held his thumb and finger an inch apart, "'and small.'"

Bella burst out laughing.

"I think you're forgetting that I can fire you, Jake," Edward remarked dryly, watching as the kid gave Bella a fist bump. Well, that was the last free drink _she_ was getting. Jake chuckled and ambled away toward the dwindling crowd. It was about time for last call.

"And _you_," he said, zeroing in on Bella, "I'll have to think up something especially horrible for your punishment." His grin came back full force, warmth blooming inside his chest at the sound of her giggle. "Although I will make a concession for the fact that you've sat next to…" he glanced over to the jukebox.

_I'm craaazy for trying… and craaazy for crying…_

Blondie was slowly sliding against the glassed front, the flickering bands of neon lights moving up her body as she went down to meet the hardwoods, up close and personal. "Please don't puke on the music, lady," Edward sighed, scratching through the rough stubble covering his chin. "I need to escort her home before she decides to spend the night on my floor." He smiled at Bella. "At least she managed to get her songs in the queue, even if she won't remember hearing them."

"I feel so sorry for her," Bella said, turning to watch the slide. "I mean, she was obnoxious, but her husband- well, her ex-husband now I guess… he cheated on her and lied about it for years. She said that everybody knew about it except her."

"I think it happens a lot." he shrugged, wiping down the counter. Edward personally had never cheated on anyone but that was probably because he'd never had a relationship that had lasted beyond six months. The effort of keeping a girlfriend while being with someone else had never appealed to him; it was too hard to hide all the lies that inevitably had to be told. He'd watched his friends in high school and college, girls and guys alike, fall into that trap… and all the unneeded dramatics that went with it. No thanks.

He assessed the room, seeing who might need another drink before he closed up shop. "If there's one thing I hate though, it's a liar," he said, popping the cap off a beer for himself. A surprising flash of chagrin passed over Bella's face as he took a long swallow.

"Right. I hate that too but…" she started and stopped, blew out a breath like she was gathering courage, "there are all kinds of lies, you know? Some are so much worse than others."

Edward laughed. "I'm not talking about lying to a girl when she asks if her ass looks big in a pair of pants. That's not a lie, that's just self-preservation," he said, leaning over the bar on his elbows. This was starting to get interesting, getting into Bella Dwyer's head.

Bella seemed flustered. "What if you had to keep a secret… for someone else?"

"Well, you just don't talk about it. You'd say that you couldn't tell whatever it was… you shouldn't have to make something up to get out of it." Edward watched her carefully.

"But what if it helps someone else? What if-"

"I'd say that _help_ was relative. Who are you to decide anyway? It sounds like you're taking away someone's choice in the matter." He smiled to soften his words. "Hey, you know I'm just playing devil's advocate, right?"

"I guess," Bella frowned.

"Ahh, I see. You're keeping secrets aren't you?"

"No!"

He grinned as he went through the receipts of the running tabs, glancing up at her through his lashes. "You're lying, Bella. I can tell."

"Stop it, Edward." She glared, pointing a tiny paper umbrella in his direction. "You can't tell me that you wouldn't lie to someone… on their deathbed for instance, to make their last moments easier?"

Edward's ready retort died in his throat as he felt his skin flash hot and cold. He was unexpectedly plunged into his six-year old self, scared and trapped in a sterile hospital room, watching his father say a final goodbye to his mother. The nurse in charge of Edward had forgotten him, or maybe she'd had better things to do, since he doubted babysitting was in her job description. Edward had already kissed his mom goodbye and promised her he'd be a good boy. He was _supposed_ to be getting ice cream in the hospital cafeteria. Except no one had come for him and now he was caught, a wide-eyed witness to his father's crippling grief. Never in his life had Edward felt such turmoil and confusion in his chest, as he pressed himself down into a dimly-lit corner of the room, out of sight behind his mother, lying prone on her silver wheeled bed (can I race you down the hall, Mama?) and his father, who had no idea Edward was in the room.

Edward's feet hurt horribly; his toes were all scrunched. He stared at the blue Transformer shoelaces on his tennis shoes as the rise and fall of his father's murmurs colored the white room, wondering how he would ever get new shoes now that his mom was leaving. Edward was pretty sure his father had no idea how to buy the right kind of kid stuff. He wondered if his dad had ever played Monopoly.

His eyes found the door to the bathroom, but it was so far away. He didn't dare move.

Edward had never heard anyone beg and plead before, especially not a man like his father, who'd hadn't been an _asking_ sort of person anyway. His deep voice seemed naked, broken and bleeding, but at the same time _strong_ when he promised that he would never love another woman; that he would never marry again, even though she had told him he should. His mom whispered that his father was too young to live the rest of his life alone. But he shook his head and promised_ again_… his father had _sworn_ that there would never be anyone else.

Edward had closed his eyes and laid his head on his knees when finally, after what seemed like a lifetime later, it was quiet. The metal chair squeaked when his father got up, making Edward's heart take off like a rocket. He hurt all over, and his butt was numb from sitting on the floor. An achy, empty pit occupied the place where his stomach used to be and he had to pee really, really bad. Overriding all that though, was the terror of being discovered, because he knew he wasn't supposed to be there. It hurt to breathe, he was so scared.

"Daddy?"

It hadn't mattered in the end, because even though his father had stared Edward right in the eyes, he'd looked _through_ him, like Edward wasn't there at all. It would become the start of a new trend.

Carlisle had married Esme two years later. In hindsight of course, Edward couldn't fault his dad for wanting to marry again, even though it'd taken him several years to come to that conclusion. He _could_ fault him for keeping Esme a secret until it was too late. Not that Edward could have done anything anyway, though no one had thought to ask him if he'd even wanted a new mom. At the end of the summer, the housekeeper had picked him up from the airport and there was Esme, living in his house, sleeping on his mom's side of the bed. They'd been married for months and he hadn't even known.

He'd eventually grown to love Esme, despite the hurt that came with acknowledging that he'd had a stepmother for more years of his life than he'd had his own mother.

Sometimes it surprised Edward to discover that a frightened and forgotten six-year old boy was still there inside him, still unable to breathe, unable to process the rage that made him want to hit and kick and hurt his own father and scream at the top of his lungs, You LIED, Daddy, you LIED, _YOU LIED!_

* * *

"Edward! Edward…" Bella was standing on the rung of her barstool so she could drape herself over the counter and grab his forearm. She stared at him, brown eyes wide, turbulent. Her mouth opened and closed because she didn't know what to say now that she actually had his attention.

Edward mentally shook himself, realizing all too late that he was looking at Bella through a haze of unshed tears. He jerked his arm out from under her hand and spun around. "Jesus," he muttered in a strangled voice, tipping his head back. He laughed out loud, as if to say, _hey, it's cool, I puss out like this all the time, no big deal! _When really, he had absolutely no clue what the fuck was wrong with him these days.

Jukebox Patsy Cline had moved on from being crazy… now she was falling to pieces…

_You want me to forget… pretend we've never met…_

After a minute, he felt like he could turn back around. No one had been at the bar except Bella, so that was a relief. She was avoiding his eyes though, picking at the ends of her hair, twisting her fingers in and out, pulling and tugging. He drew in a shaky breath, trying to decide how exactly one apologizes for… what, exactly? Spacing out? How about almost crying like a freak at an inappropriate moment while ruining an interesting conversation in the meantime?

And that was when Blondie came back from the dead.

"Hey!" she slurred from the floor beside the jukebox, her head all lit up from the bubble lights behind her teased hair. "Hey baby, heeey sexy bartender…you got any food? Chicken wings? Or something?"

Bella whirled around to send a pleading look to Jake. A quick glance at Edward and Jake was hooting and hollering, drawing all eyes his way.

"I heard someone call my name!" he crowed as he sauntered toward the jukebox. "Was it you, beautiful?"

"I dunno," Blondie winked from the floor, following his lead without missing a beat. "Is your name Sexy?"

His lips twitched into a smile. "How'd you know?"

"I'm smart," she said, tapping her forehead as Jake gently helped her to her feet.

"Where're you staying, sweetheart? I'm gonna walk you home."

"What a gentleman you are!" she exclaimed as she fell into his arms.

"I can't believe it, you know my middle name too! Whoa there… be careful. There's a step here. You're like the eighth wonder of the world…" Jake winked at his girlfriend as he helped Blondie out the door and into the night.

* * *

Edward cautiously opened the door, noticing the light was still on.

"How're you feeling?" he asked quietly, standing in the doorway.

The room fell silent as the TV clicked off. "Ah, I'll be alright. Don't you worry, son." Peter grimaced as he sat up in the bed. "How'd it go tonight? Sounded like a pretty good crowd you had down there."

"Yeah. It was a good crowd."

"Jake do okay?"

"Yeah, Jake was just fine. He's a good kid."

"_You're_ a good kid," Peter laughed, "the best." He groaned seconds later as he rubbed his stomach. Edward automatically took two quick steps in, his eyes bouncing around the room, searching.

"Where's that medicine I gave you? Did you take it?"

"I took it," Peter sighed. He lay back on his pillow gingerly. "Its just indigestion, Edward. Don't worry, kid- I mean it." He turned off the lamp but the room stayed bright with moonlight. "It'll be gone by in the morning."

"I _am_ worried, okay? I'm gonna call tomorrow. See if they can move your appointment up." He shifted from foot to foot, ran his hand through his hair. "Uncle Pete?"

An irritated reply was ready to come out of Peter's mouth when he finally registered the strange tone in Edward's voice. He sounded… forlorn. His nephew was a grown man, but seeing his shadowy form slumped in the doorway, hesitating, with his hands shoved in his pockets suddenly reminded Peter of the boy he'd worked so hard to bring back to life after Elizabeth had died. Strange… but maybe not so strange. Edward was still so very young in a lot of ways.

"Well, you do what you gotta do, kid, alright? I'm all yours," Pete said roughly. "Now get your ass to bed. It's two in the morning."

Edward visibly relaxed. "Yeah, okay. Thanks Uncle Pete."

"No problem, kid. See you tomorrow."

"Sure. G'night."

The door was almost closed when Peter spoke up. "Hey… I love you, kid. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Edward replied, the moon catching the white of his smile. "I love you too."

* * *

_May 2008_

He pulled the Cubs cap down further over his eyes to disguise how he'd been shamelessly cataloging every creamy inch of her as he walked over. A hint of blue peeked out the collar of her shirt. Bathing suit straps. Holy fuck, what he wouldn't give to see _that_. "You know it's warm enough," he finally said, grinning when she jumped. "Stop staring at it. Why don't you just go in?"

Bella looked down from her porch at the beautiful boy standing in the sand. "I didn't know you were there," she said offhandedly. She looked out at the water, calm, blue-green and almost windless today. She missed it… was beginning to _crave_ it, now that the temperatures were rising. "Not much of a swimmer, I'm afraid," she said evenly, hoping she sounded halfway believable.

The smile was obvious in his voice. "Ha- now I know that's bullshit. I heard you tell that blonde chick that barfed on Jake that night that you swam for your high school team. Don't tell me you were lying about _that_."

Bella shifted, his blunt answer throwing her off balance for a second. Then, irritated that he'd been eavesdropping after all, she simply frowned and shrugged. "You heard wrong. I never said that."

"You really can't swim?" he laughed. "I bet you're afraid of the water. Come on, little mouse. I'll teach you."

"Of course I can swim," she snapped, glaring at him.

"What, you don't feel like it, princess? Water not the perfect temperature?"

She wondered what in the hell had gotten into him. "Shut up, Edward."

"You say that a lot, you know. You're beginning to hurt my feelings."

Startled into a grin, she turned her face into the slight wind, enjoying the freshness. "Well… well, maybe you should take a hint." Bella tried to sound exasperated but she couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled to the surface.

Edward absolutely lit up inside at the sound of her laugh. Mission evidently accomplished. "Come to the store with me then. I'll let you carry my bags."

"Well…"

"If you're really good I'll let you pay, too. Come _on_."

She walked over and sat on the steps to be close to him. What a tremendous flirt he was today! This was a side of Edward she'd never really seen before and she had to admit she loved it. In Colorado, the weight of the world had been on his shoulders; he'd been tired and anxious a lot of the time. Here, she could feel the nudge as he tested the boundaries of their friendship but it was pretty evident that he felt safe in whatever it was that they were doing. This… invisible dance of theirs.

"Fine," she smirked. "But you're buying me ice cream."

"Sold! Let's go," he said, doing a little caper in the sand.

"_Double_ scoops."

"Get your sweet ass in gear, girl or I'll throw you over my shoulder." He grinned evilly, tugging her ponytail when she finally hopped off the porch to walk with him.

* * *

"No way…" he frowned at the newspaper.

"What?" she asked, looking over at him. "You do realize you're reading the newspaper wrapped around your fish, don't you? Whatever it is, it's old news."

They were walking back across the street from the grocery, where Edward had bullied her into buying a box of Cocoa Puffs that would probably end up at the back of her pantry. And now he was upset over the news wrapped around his amberjack.

Edward followed her to the porch looking fairly put out, flopping down dramatically on the steps. "I know I suck at keeping in touch with people, but look at this." He waved his bundle of seafood in Bella's general direction. "A friend of mine gets married and he doesn't even invite me. "

Bella made a vague sympathetic sound as she sat down next to him. "I'm sorry," she said. "Don't take it personally though, it was probably a small wedding or something. Who…" she trailed off as the blood drained from her face. She didn't need to finish her question because all of a sudden she _knew_.

_Oh god._

"Emmett McCarty," he murmured, unwrapping the fish to read more of the article. "and Rosalie Swan…" He glanced back up the paper, inspecting the smiling couple in the picture. "I don't think I know her."

_Mayday! Mayday!_

"Don't unwrap that here! It's 90 degrees outside!" Bella shrieked, fumbling with her bags, throwing them inside the screen door. "Here," she said, her hand reaching, "here, give it to me and I'll rewrap it in… ah, foil and it'll keep longer."

"You know anybody named Swan? Why does that sound so familiar?" He rubbed his face, the scruff a pleasant feel on the tips of his fingers. "I think I'll give him a call sometime soon. See what's up." He finally looked over at Bella. "Hey... geez, you okay?"

"Yeah... just…"

"What?"

"I'm just …really worried about that _fish_, Edward. It needs to be refrigerated. _Immediately_. Have you ever had food poisoning from fish? It's horrible. Like, bubonic plague, edge of death horrible." She babbled on and on, oblivious to Edward's growing amusement.

"Fine," he laughed, unwrapping further. "I'm going to keep this paper-"

"_No!_ The sun can't touch it!" She snatched the halfway-wrapped fish from his hands and ran inside.

"Uh… Bella?" Edward stuck his head inside her screen door after a moment. "I'm gonna go run the milk over to my house, okay?" He was quiet for a second, listening. "Then I'm coming back." Pause. "And we're having a little _talk_ …about your irrational fear of _fish_."

"Okay!" she yelled from the back of the house.

He grinned all the way home. Strange, beautiful, sexy girl.

* * *

The TV blared, unnaturally loud, in the house.

"Hey, old man!" Edward yelled, looking around for his uncle. What the fuck? Was Pete going deaf? He finally found the remote control on the floor, along with almost all the little throw pillows that usually stayed on the couch, courtesy of Mrs. Cope's foray into needlepoint a few years ago. "Uncle Pete?"

The charged silence that filled the house after he shut off the TV was unsettling. He ignored the milk by the door and raced upstairs, dread twisting up his insides. "Pete! Where are you?"

Edward blew out a loud breath in relief, finding his uncle leaning on the counter in his bathroom. "Hey, I was calling you… you must not have…" his voice dwindled as he went cold.

Pete's shirt was wrongly buttoned. Just one… just one button out of line. The slightest effect of crookedness. The meds from the cardiologist, sprinkled all over the tiled floor, the old man's face, drawn and white, his hands clenched in pain, one still clutching the safety cap from the bottle. Words, prayers, tears, shameless begging all clogged in Edward's throat at the same time, fighting with the air he desperately needed to breathe.

_This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening_

The phone was already in his hands when he caught the full weight of his uncle in his arms, bringing Edward to his knees. "Pete, Pete, stay with me, okay? Stay—stay with me," he chanted mindlessly as he grabbed for a nitroglycerin pill that had rolled onto the carpet. His eyes were searching for his phone that had been knocked out of his hand as he brought the pill from the floor to Pete's mouth.

_Every second counts, don't fuck this up, every second counts_

"Hey, you gotta swallow this, okay, here it is, come on, come on…" _Phone, where's the phone, there it is, there_… the phone lay a few feet away, glowing merrily, ready for direction. He looked back at Pete, his head cradled in the crook of Edward's arm. He wasn't swallowing the pill, he wasn't doing _anything_, _godfuckingdammit._ Edward reached desperately for his phone, groaning, managing to tap the screen once, but it didn't bring up the keypad, it brought up the last person called…

riiiing….

riiiing…

"Well, you'll be hap-"

"I need you!" Edward half-sobbed in the direction of the phone, reality crashing down on him. _"Bel- call 911!"_ He didn't know what to do… he knew CPR, but Pete was still breathing, his heart was still beating, he couldn't think, _couldn't think…_

And suddenly _she_ was there, coaxing him to lay Uncle Pete down on the floor, _here's a pillow for his head, here's my phone, Edward, talk, tell them what happened- the ambulance is on the way…_ he could finally breathe again as calm brown eyes met green… and she pushed the hair off his forehead, her fingers skimming back down his face. God, he was sweating like crazy, but he was cold, so cold…

"I'm here, Edward, I'm here," she said. And her voice was like warm spring sunshine, clear, soothing, the sweetest sound.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! If you're ever wondering where I am again, feel free to find me on FB or twitter... primarycolors fanfic and primarycolors1... **

**Have great week... see you on Friday!**


	39. White

**Thanks for waiting on me, y'all.**

**I couldn't do it without faireyfan and les16. **

* * *

June 2008

"Edward?" Bella pushed on the heavy door with her shoulder. A slow whoosh shifted the air as it opened…soundless and sterile. She had the fleeting sense of stepping into a vacuum, except for the unfaltering, never-ending drone of the breathing machine. The room was cold, and very plain. Very utilitarian. It was extremely… white. White was good for a hospital though, she decided, trying to give her thoughts a positive spin. White was clean… sterilized. Her heart sped as she gravitated toward the only warmth, the only color, in the room.

Edward.

He had somehow crumpled his long body into the cream padded guest chair, completely out cold, sleeping with his mouth open. The stubble on his face was the longest she'd ever seen it. The morning sun came through the window, waking the reds and golds that lay hidden in the strands… the short ones on his cheeks, and the long floppy ones that fell over his forehead. While she watched, he snorted and shifted, a slight grimace passing over his face as he shut his mouth, his tongue peeking out shyly to wet his lips before it disappeared again. He was so beautiful. Her heart welled up with feeling and for a moment she desperately wanted to cross the room and drop to her knees, kiss him awake, rub her face against the bristly parts of his cheek, run her nose along his neck so she could breathe him in… hold him in her arms if things got to be too much. Today was going to be hard for him. She moved closer, looking him over with a critical eye.

He looked like he hadn't showered since he'd been here.

Swallowing back tears, she walked to greet Peter first, squeezing his warm hand, hoping against hope that he'd move a finger, anything. He didn't respond, although she could almost feel him pushing her toward the distressed boy in the chair. Even in sleep, Edward looked worried.

"Edward," she whispered, squatting down to his eye level. Her hand hovered over his temple… wondering if the situation gave permission to run her fingers through his hair, under the pretense of waking him gently. Before she knew it though, he was awake, the decision off the table.

"Hi," she said, so softly she felt like the word barely made it past her lips. He regarded her silently, tired and heavy lidded, his bloodshot eyes setting the stage for the vivid, vibrant evergreen of his irises that always eclipsed everything else. They fluttered closed again, as if the effort to keep them open was just too much.

Bella had lost the battle with her hand, almost sighing in pleasure as she dragged her fingertips along his scalp. This was heaven. To touch him, was heaven.

"Thanks for coming," he whispered. Bella smiled even as her nose wrinkled the smallest fraction. She was glad she'd packed his toothbrush for him. And his razor. _And_ his hairbrush, her gaze moving back to the mess on top of his head.

"Of course," she said, withdrawing her hand. "I brought some clothes… and other things." As he sat up in the chair with a groan, she stood back up. "That's a nice look for you there," she smiled, patting her cheek, indicating his new bristly appearance.

A quick grin. "Yeah?" His voice was gravely and he cleared his throat, rubbing his face with a chuckle. "I don't know, it's a little too Tom Hanks Castaway for me." He smiled at her drowsily for a moment and then it was gone, as if he realized that he had no business laughing in the here and now.

"Please," she made a show of rolling her eyes. "If it ever gets that long I'll hold you down myself and give Mrs. Cope the scissors."

No leer from her quip about holding him down, she noticed. In fact, it took him five long seconds for his smile to make a slight reappearance, and then he sighed mournfully, shaking his head.

After a moment she asked, "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," he answered honestly. God, his whole body was sore from sleeping in that chair and just… everything. He rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles; finally contemplating the bag she'd brought him, lying at her feet. Jesus, her feet… he ducked his head so she wouldn't see how his eyes skimmed up her legs to the edge of her little sporty-skirt thing and back down again.

"Supposed to be a scorcher today," he commented, his mind elsewhere.

"Yeah, it's already hot."

No, the _sandals_ she wore were fucking hot. He didn't know how, but they did things to her legs, like she even needed any help in that department. Her little toes peeked out at the ends. Clear nail polish today… with sparkles. Another sigh shuddered out of him and he sat back down. He didn't have the luxury of thinking about Bella and long legs and sex today. "Did you bring that… uh, stuff from Mrs. Cope?"

"Yeah. The side pocket there." She pointed briefly, her hands fluttering. This was hard for her, not knowing what he needed… the things he would never ask for.

"Thanks."

"Sure." Bella finally settled on wrapping her arms around herself. "So…" she began, her hand gesturing toward the bed, unsure of how to ask him to confirm what she already knew. _All_ of Summerside knew, but she wanted to hear it from him.

"He's… ah, he's already gone," Edward shrugged, as if doctors declaring his uncle brain dead was no big deal. "Uh, massive stroke… cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital…" he reached up to rub the space between his eyebrows. His gaze had turned blank, his voice was deceptively calm, almost disinterested, not realizing that the trembling in his hand gave him away. He got up again, unable to stop moving, shoving a hand into a pocket only to take it out again to run through his wild hair. "There wasn't anything we… anyone could've done." He deliberately looked away from her stricken face.

"Edward… I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. Well…" he hesitated. "Sorry I'm not more of a conversationalist at the moment but-"

"It's okay, Edward, really," she said quickly, touching his arm. He was shutting down, shutting her out. "Did you ever talk to your dad? Is he… coming?" Bella wasn't sure how she would deal with the appearance of Carlisle and Esme, and the fact that they would recognize her as the girl who'd painted Edward's portrait. She was torn; a large part of her praying that they wouldn't be able to make it down to Summerside for the funeral. On the other hand, she knew Edward needed all the support he could get at a time like this. "Your dad and your stepmom? Surely they got a flight…" her voice trailed off. Suddenly feeling like she was pushing, she dropped her hand but didn't back away. She just wasn't ready to leave him to do this alone, not yet. Her hands itched to smooth his hair, straighten a bed corner… fix him a sandwich, _something_. Pathetic, yes, but she wanted him to need her; she needed to take care of him, however she could. If only he'd let her.

His face darkened, a mix of rage and utter misery as he debated what to say. His dad and Esme were on an Alaskan cruise; he understood that it would be impossible for them to make it down to Florida on such short notice. The conversation he'd had with his father was short and to the point. Edward had expected nothing less. Or more. He'd almost fallen apart when Esme had gotten on the phone though, her kindness and worry for his well-being so soothing, smoothing over the wounds from his father that never seemed to heal. But after a few minutes he could hear his father mutter in the background, complaining about the phone rates on a cruise ship. So Edward made his excuses before Esme could make hers, and said a hasty goodbye.

If Bella had noticed how his hands had clenched or the tensing in his shoulders, she didn't say. He shook his head slightly at her and just went with the simplest answer. "They can't make it."

Her silence was an unspoken question. It put him on edge.

"Bella, I don't want to talk about it, okay?" He swiped at his eyes. That came out sharper than he'd intended but nothing was really right about him today, he was discovering. He wanted her to go home before he hurt her feelings by mistake.

"Okay," a soft smile, an easy shrug of her shoulders. "You don't have to say anything." Her eyes, her eyes… so sympathetic, understanding. He forced himself to look away. He needed to stay numb but she was unraveling him, thread by thread, just by being here, being who she was.

He shoved his hands back in his pockets, staring out the window so he didn't stare at her. "Don't take this the wrong way… and I know you just got here," he said wearily, "but you should probably go on back home."

"But…" She shifted uncomfortably, wanting to argue, but not wanting to demand anything more of him than he could give. "You might need…"

"Nope, I'll be fine," his voice was thick, hoarse as he looked over at Peter on the bed. A bed with hard silver wheels, just like his mom's, next to indifferent machines that beep-beep-beeped. Sharp, shiny machines that were programmed to inhale and exhale tirelessly, never stopping… unlike a human body. Yeah, those definitely had an expiration date.

God, he wanted a drink. Maybe he'd invent that; an optional attachment that came with the ventilator for just these situations. Just like the automated coffee machines in every hospital break room, the little paper cup would fall into place, catching the tiny stream of scotch from the dispenser. He could see the illuminated words now, splashed across the cheerful fiberglass front. The design would be light blue… white fluffy clouds with one or two headstrong sunbeams merrily poking through … oblivion in the form of alcohol from heaven.

_**Cheers! A Toast to the Discontinued Health of your Loved One… Send Them Off to the Wild Blue Yonder in Style!**__ (Bonus shot if your loved one is donating organs! All major credit cards accepted. Commemorative shot glass optional) _

His eyes were drawn again to the side pocket of the bag Bella had brought, the rhythmic sounds of the room chipping away at his sanity.

Pete's living will was in the side pocket.

…_hisssss…snick…_

…_hisssss…snick…_

…_hisssss…snick… _

And then suddenly _she_ was there in front of him, pressing her damp face into his chest, her arms thrown around his waist, squeezing. _Fuck_. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. There was nothing to do but hold her close, his girl with the perfect, loving heart. The one girl he could never have. The sweet smell of her filled him up, her soft hair twisting itself around and around his hands. Grief was a giant bubble ripping through his chest and it hurt, god it _hurt_ coming up. There was nothing he could do except push it back down. He didn't understand why she didn't leave… he really was about to lose it.

Bella felt his chest hitch without a sound, felt her own breath whistle out of her as he crushed her body to his desperately. He let go of her all too soon.

"Go… please." It came out in whispered fragments, a child's plea, as he pushed her away.

Still, she hesitated, long enough to finally incite all the negative emotion pent up inside Edward's chest.

"_Goddammit_, Bella, take a fucking _hint_ and _go home_," he snapped, ignoring the way his voice broke, how her eyes widened. He welcomed the anger… nurtured it. It was so much better than falling apart.

But if he'd expected Bella to dissolve into a puddle of tears, he was disappointed. Her strength and determination were so clear on her face that Edward was suddenly sure he was about to be on the receiving end of an epic bitch session.

"Okay," she said calmly, her expression intent; as if she'd heard all the things unsaid… the things he hadn't been aware of saying. "Come find me when you get home." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her eyes moving from Edward to the machines, the black slash of tubes and cords, the smooth and precise contour of the bed… to Peter, just a man, in all a human being's imperfect glory. He had been so much more than flesh and bone. More than a jumble of laugh lines and a grin, freckles, wrinkles, weathered skin bronzed from so many years living with the Florida sun… the salt and pepper of his hair, the blazing sea glass green under his closed eyelids, so like his nephew's. Still, even now, so full of color.

She walked over to stand beside the bed and squeezed Peter's hand, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Goodbye, Uncle Peter," she whispered, reverent.

Then she was back in front of Edward, tip-toed and stretching, her fingers curling around the back of his neck so her lips could find his cheek too, his ear. He bent obediently. "Everything will be okay," she said, a fierce promise.

And then she was gone, leaving him trembling, swaying, standing alone with the soft steady pulse of the machines and the shell of his father figure.

* * *

It was the middle of the night before he finally pulled the car into the driveway of his uncle's house. _His_ house now, Edward reminded himself… the house and everything associated with it now belonged to him. It was hard to wrap his mind around… it didn't feel real. And he didn't _want_ it to feel real. Any excitement over owning a house on the beach, his own _business,_ felt like a betrayal. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, listened to the car settle into complete silence, dreading the act of walking up to the front door and opening it up to emptiness.

But he did, of course. He was tired and he wasn't going to sleep in the car. The sea breeze calmed him as he shouldered his bag and walked up the driveway, around the wrap-around porch to the back. It was dark out, with clouds covering the night sky. The moonlight was just a vague suggestion at two in the morning. It wasn't so late to him, more often than not he was winding down this time of night, but the older folks usually packed it in hours before… at least by the time Letterman came on.

He looked longingly over at Bella's. Her lights were out except for the tiny lamp in her kitchen. The regret at how he'd snapped at her in the hospital was a nauseating ball in the pit of his stomach. He wouldn't wake her up just so he could apologize, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. Tomorrow, he decided he'd do it tomorrow, even though he knew now that no one was ever guaranteed another day of life.

The key fit easily in the deadbolt, just like it always had… the tumblers of the lock sliding back smoothly. He let his forehead dip forward to rest against the wood. The crickets had quieted as he'd made his way down the deck, now they started up again, a loud, surging chorus that reminded him suddenly of all his summers past.

_Just open the door, jackass._

He'd had the whole hour and a half drive home to mull over the practical things… what he needed to wear to the funeral and if it was clean, the necessity of clearing the mess in Pete's bathroom and bedroom… the bar… the scattered tablets, the overturned chairs, the furniture that was shoved out of the way to make room for the stretcher. And the possibility that there was probably a gallon of spoiled milk on the table right inside the door, just a few feet away. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

* * *

Ten minutes later he sat on the edge of his bed in a daze, utterly surprised to find his cheeks wet with tears that wouldn't stop. Freshly washed sheets on the beds… his closet full of clean, pressed clothes, drawers full of laundered underwear, socks, t-shirts. The house was _spotless_, every inch… the kitchen was stocked with food. There were flowers that people had sent, divided up, placed in little vases throughout the house. Everything sparkled and smelled like oranges.

Bella.

He ached to call her… see her. But it was the middle of the night and she was sleeping, surely. She was sleeping.

He let his head drop down in his hands, allowed himself to feel. Finally.

Edward had read somewhere that as a kid, it's the cruelty of others that makes you cry. As an adult, it's kindness.

* * *

July 2008

The window was open, and the dark sky, pricked all over with stars, reflected in the mirror in her bedroom. Bella wondered how she had coped with Pete's death… _before_… in that reality that Edward had changed. It was strange to think that one day he would remember a year together that she would never know. Conversations and memories that he'd experienced with her that had no place in her current lifetime. Not for the first time, she wondered just how different she was now compared to _then_.

Of course, _then_ was really the wrong word to use… since this year, 2008, was essentially writing over the other 2008 Edward would remember. Dr. Shan had always said that Edward would remember both 2008's that he'd experienced… but what if the most recent one, the one he was living now, took precedence? If she hadn't shown up a year early there might have been a chance that he didn't really remember her at all. It's not like this was an exact science. So many things were left to chance, she wanted to control as many of the possible outcomes as she could. Bella took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If she kept pondering life in parallel universes she'd give herself a headache. She knew _that_ from experience.

She hadn't drawn anything in a few days so she settled into bed thinking she'd sketch for a few minutes before she went to sleep. It never failed to help her relax… take her mind off of whatever she was thinking too hard about.

Charcoal and pencil… kneaded eraser. Cream and ivory smudged, made hazy, smoky with her fingertips, weighed down with the hard, sooty edges of details. Perspectives and shadows on wood grain were easy for Bella. Composition, balance and symmetry, something she was born knowing how to do… but insight was a learning process. The light in someone's eyes, the slightest tilt in the corner of their mouth… how the shaded contour of a jaw line could set the tone for the whole piece…

Before she'd known what she was doing she'd roughed out the inside of the barroom. It was loose, the strokes vague and broad until they got tighter, more distinct the closer the eye moved to the focal point. The heart of the drawing was the man behind the bar. It wasn't Edward, but Peter. And it wasn't exactly a portrait… more of a day in the life. It was comfortable and warm. Just like he had been.

She drew back, overwhelmed, suddenly compelled to open her heart.

_Peter, we miss you. Nothing is the same here; over there… well, everywhere. You left a huge hole. It's like the whole town was wounded somehow. Painful when it happened, when you left, and now we're in recovery, slowly trying to make ourselves healthy again. We've been kind of lethargic, I guess. It's easy to blame it on the heat but I know it has more to do with the constant ache of your absence. You were so loved. Still are. I think you know that._

_Peter, can you see us down here? Do you know about me and the secret I'm keeping? How much I love him? I'll take care of him, I promise. Always._

_Speaking of Edward, he's doing better. I was worried about him for a while… well, more than usual. Remember how much he complained about you watching Days of Our Lives? I walked in one day last week and saw him glued to the TV clutching the remote control, with this anxious look on his face. I've never seen him so embarrassed! I guess he got over it though, because he made me come sit beside him and watch._

"_You won't believe this," he said, "these couples got trapped in separate elevators—look, that's Lucas and Chloe in that one- and now they're both going at it…" He grinned at me and laughed, "no wonder Pete liked this show!"_

_If you can see him, you know he's going to be just fine. We talked about his plans for New York, years ago… how he had changed his mind at the last minute and decided to stay here with you in Summerside. He said that he was glad… he was glad that he had spent the past four years with you. That you were everything a father should have been… and that even though he misses you, he's at peace. We talked about his mom, and his Aunt Lottie… your wife Charlotte. I saw a side to him that I've never seen before. He was so open and sweet… I want to keep him that way all the time. Maybe you can help me with that._

_And maybe when the truth comes out… and how I've kept it from Edward… even when he remembers everything I'm still worried. For years I was so sure that everything would work out like Edward said it would. But nothing is guaranteed, I see that now. I'm afraid. Nervous that he won't forgive me._

_My sister told me that Emmett wanted to invite him to their wedding. She asked me what I wanted her to do since she thinks Edward broke my heart and that I hate him. So I told her no! I told her I didn't want him there so they didn't invite him. It was a very small wedding… a lot of people weren't invited so it didn't look strange that Edward wasn't there. Plus, they'd kind of grown apart anyway… they hadn't talked in years. I don't even think they've made the connection that where I'm living now is Edward's town… they're all wrapped up in their lives and the team and stuff. _

_My sister was really pretty that day- the day of the wedding. They looked so happy together._

_I hope Edward will understand why I said no. If he'd gone everything would have come out and I don't know how I would have explained! Everything is so messed up. I had to lie, Uncle Pete, you understand, don't you?_

_Looking back, I probably shouldn't have come to Summerside until next year, just as Edward had told me to do when we discussed all this in Colorado. But when I saw that picture of him with Jessica Newton… and she was wearing an engagement ring! I was so afraid he'd fallen in love with someone else and I just couldn't let that happen!_

_I wish I had someone to talk to. Someone who could talk back. No offense, Uncle Pete._

_But if I'd waited… if I hadn't come to Summerside I never would have met you. So you see, Uncle Pete, it's been worth it, because you were amazing. Did you see the tree Mrs. Cope planted in your honor? It's so beautiful… right there in the church square…_

Not surprised to find tears running down her cheeks, Bella sniffed and grabbed for the tissues by the side of the bed. Maybe she'd give this picture to Edward. He'd like it, she thought. He'd asked her to help him clear out Peter's bedroom next week… she could give it to him then. Working faster now, she lost herself in the room with her friend, silently sending him her love and best wishes, wherever he might be.

* * *

August 2008

"_Edward._" Bella stopped short in the hallway when she noticed he wasn't behind her. "My studio is this way."

"Hold on…" Edward hung on the door frame of her bedroom like a monkey, leaning inside. "What's _this_ room?" he joked. "There's a great view of… uh, the church. And Mrs. Cope's place." His gaze darted around the room, hoping for something indecent. Teasing fodder.

A moment later, he was looking back at her slyly, feigning a sheepish expression. A fairly innocent expression, really… but still enough to send goose bumps up and down her arms. She'd gotten so used to pushing down the constant desire to connect with him that it sometimes snuck up on her; as if it were a living, breathing entity always searching for a way around the roadblocks she put up to protect herself. Pure carnal want spiked low in her belly at the sulky look on his face, and the knowledge that she knew his so well… that she could read him so easily.

He waited outside her doorway for permission to enter, impatient with her stalling. Bella ran her tongue over her bottom lip, shifting at the way he stilled suddenly, how his darkened eyes watched her mouth before dropping down the rest of her body unashamedly. He was hers, but then he wasn't; this felt brand new. That week in Colorado seemed a lifetime ago… Edward had been someone else. She had too. It was as if she'd never even kissed him, much less made love to him, cataloged every inch of his body, allowing him to do the same to her. The erotic anticipation of when he came back with his full memory was enough to make her forget the worry about her lies, her omissions and misdirection. She craved the weight of his body… the taste of his mouth… the crazed look in his eyes when he was in the throes of an orgasm. To have him actually stand in her bedroom might be too much for her to handle.

"Hello… earth to Bella…" While she hesitated, he graced her with a full-on grin. "Don't worry, no underwear hanging off the ceiling fan or anything. Not that I would mind that."

Bella attempted to shake off the ache of wanting him, only succeeding in driving it lower, to writhe and bite, chipping away at her resolve, feeding the steady pulse between her legs. What would he do if she pushed him down on the bed and pinned his hips between her knees? Licked up the line of his jaw while she held his head steady, her fingers twined tight in his hair? Shoved her other hand searching down his pants?

_Get a hold of yourself, Bella._

She sighed, finally able to move her body forward down the hallway. "You just want an excuse to get inside my drawers," she said tartly.

He snorted. "Well… _yeah_." And then his eyes widened. "Shit, I just meant your room and… I didn't mean…" he started to laugh at himself. "Shut up." He took her small smile as consent, and slid through the doorway, running his fingers down her bedspread as soon as he was inside. He crossed his arms after that. As if his hands were beginning to get funny ideas.

Bella's stomach was doing flips, watching him move around her bedroom. He'd visited the lower level of her house before, but had never ventured past the stairs. Thank goodness she'd washed the sheets, straightened her old quilt and pillows this morning… not that he'd be getting in her bed or anything, no, no, of course not, but… She twisted her hands, eyes widening suddenly as she looked past him to her bathroom and the dirty underwear on the floor. Geez, Bella. No ceiling fan, but bad enough.

"Ugh," she muttered, darting past him to do a fifteen-second tidy. No tampons out in the open, counter relatively clean, toilet paper on the roll… she blew out a breath and stuffed the underwear in a drawer. For a moment she entertained the titillating but ultimately _mortifying_ scenario of Edward coming across the one tiny sexual device she owned. Like an idiot, she kept it in the same drawer as her toothpaste. Anybody could find it. Delicious heat exploded across her cheeks, imagining his face when he realized what is was… and what she did with it when she was alone. And that she thought of him while she did it.

She hurried out of the bathroom all flushed and tingly, feeling a little ridiculous. Edward hadn't even noticed though, he was staring at the framed pencil drawing she had hanging over her dresser. It was her favorite.

"My dad drew that," she said, coming to stand beside him.

His breath hitched and she glanced at him curiously.

"I-I know," he murmured. "I remember."

_What?_

"What?" Her ears were roaring. "W-what? What do you remember? Wait… what do you mean, _you remember?" _She dimly realized that her heart was slamming around her ribcage so hard it was making her dizzy. It was too soon, wasn't it? He'd said June of 2009 was when it would happen… when he'd come back to himself. That was next _year_. Months away. And if he really was _remembering_… well, frankly, she'd expected a little more fanfare. She braced herself for his anger, hoping for his unbridled happiness.

He turned to her, his eyes full of wonder, roving over her face with a new knowledge, searching, seeing her in a different light.

"You don't remember, do you?" He grinned at her, the shine of boyish excitement making him look younger. And happy… happier than she'd seen him in months. "I'm not surprised you don't remember—you were really little."

She was completely bewildered. Opening her mouth to speak, she abruptly closed it again, shaking her head. Finally she said, "I don't know what—what you're talking about."

"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand, curling their fingers together. "I've got to show you—come on."

"But my canvas…"

"Later," he laughed, yanking her forward into his arms. He buried his nose in the hair at her temple, brushing his lips over her cheek. "This is crazy," he whispered, the murmur curling warm and soft against her ear, his touch searing her down to her toes. "You won't believe it."

"Ah… you'd be surprised what I can believe," she replied shakily, gazing up at him.

For a moment it seemed as if he had more he wanted to say but then he shook his head, clearing away any ridiculous notions that might be rattling around. He sighed, a small smile lingering. "Alright, seriously. Come on. I can't tell you, you have to _see_." Bounding away from her he called from the stairwell, "And you're such a little liar! You _do_ like to swim… _Starfish_."

* * *

The bay window of Edward's new bedroom looked out on chameleon sand, ever shifting at the whim of the sun. High noon sparkled golden, the shore growing warmer and warmer until it blushed pink, then casting yet again to silver at the end of day, throwing dark inky shadows around the dunes and whatever animals were out foraging. And then beyond the beach, the endless, timeless ocean had its own timetable of color.

Edward had no qualms about allowing Bella in his bedroom. She'd been there before, the most recent being several weeks ago when she did most of the work packing up Peter's belongings while Edward pretended to not be affected at shoe boxes of old pictures and faded receipts, scribbled notes of what friends might want for Christmas. There'd been an old ticket stub from Jim Carrey's The Mask found under the bed, along with a random pair of women's underwear. Edward had remembered the movie, but was stumped over the panties. He'd still gotten a kick out of them though.

After seeing the pencil sketch in Bella's bedroom, Edward had practically pulled her next door, the years stripping away as they stepped through the sand, nearing the bar's back porch steps. He was seven again, the pain of losing his mother fresh and green and vibrant.

"Hey… slow down!" Bella puffed as she hurried beside him, glancing between the grip he had on her wrist and the determined look on his face.

"Sorry," he smiled down at her, a little contrite, but not enough to let her go. He rubbed his thumb over her wrist where he'd held her, threading their fingers together instead. "This okay?"

She didn't answer, but squeezed his hand as he opened the door.

* * *

Upstairs in a shoe box was a snapshot of a scrawny boy in dire need of a haircut, grinning for the camera, missing teeth, clutching the hand of a tiny girl. She was occupied with a to-go cup of lemonade, almost too big for her to hold onto properly.

"That's you, isn't it? I can tell now, I can _definitely_ see it's you, you know I saw this when we went through all this stuff a few weeks ago, I can't believe I didn't see that it was _you!_"

He was babbling, sprawled on the floor of his new bedroom. The contents of the shoe box had been unceremoniously dumped between the V of his legs so he could find what he was looking for.

"Where… that's you?" Bella had her hand over her mouth in amazement, talking through her fingers. "You're so _skinny!_ Like… hair on a stick. And why—is that the bar behind us? When? How old are you here?"

"Seven," he answered, unable to stop grinning at her. "I never knew your name. I forgot to ask. All this time I never knew… and here you are."

"You met my dad," she whispered with a soft look in her eyes.

He nodded, his eyes intent.

"This is crazy." She seemed unable to break the spell of his gaze.

"I didn't know your name so I called you mermaid girl in my head. You were this… this _baby _practically, and you swam like a fish, and your dad just sat in the sand and watched you like it was the most natural thing in the world."

"Yeah." Bella fidgeted.

"I always imagined that you were a… well, after I kinda grew up and realized that mermaids didn't really exist, I thought you'd be some kind of Olympic champion swimmer, or diver, or something." Edward cocked his head. "But I haven't seen you swim at all… I don't think… _ever_.

Bella gave up inspecting her fingernails, now picking rubber flakes off the soles of her flip-flops. She shrugged.

"Am I going to have to dunk you to get answers?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't.

Leaning forward slightly, he tucked her hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't recommend running, Bella. I'm faster than you."

* * *

**Thanks for reading, guys. I've gotten the sweetest PM's and messages from all of you... I want to hug everybody. Hop over to the thread at Twilighted for discussion.**

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**Take out the spaces. :) Or there's a link on my author page.**

**Until next time...**


	40. Such An Elegant Name

**Happy Premiere Day! I've seen it and loved it. How about you?**

**Much gratitude to faireyfan for her unwavering confidence. At times, she makes me believe I can fly.**

**And to les16, the most wonderful friend anyone could ever ask for. Thank you both. :)**

* * *

**If you haven't read the outtake, no doubt you were confused about Edward and Bella meeting as children... take time to read it. It's short and sweet and might clear a few things up in case you had any lingering questions. It's in the story _Firefly Rarities_ on my fanfiction front page, chapter 3.**

* * *

**Here we go!**

* * *

September 2008

He read the words for what had to be the millionth time.

_She knows who you are and in five years she'll find you, here, in Summerside. She promised. All you have to do is wait._

_She's waiting for you too._

_She knows who you are…_

He turned; hands stuffed in his pockets and looked out the window. Summer lingered, melting into fall little by little, the temperatures dwindling only after the sun dropped below the horizon. He knew that change was inevitable. The world moved on. People died and were born, seasons faded only to return stronger, but different. Mother Nature always reinvented herself. But change was bittersweet, wasn't it? He wanted to stay and move forward all at the same time.

_She knows who you are…_

He flashed hot as desire curled low and bleak, and his eyes were drawn to her, always to her. The chill of the glass soothed him as he leaned his head up against it. Evidently change also applied itself to gardens, as Bella was digging up the old to put in the new. Just watching her, the way she moved, doing something as simple as watering the flowers she'd planted… she captivated him, his entire body a humming flame.

_Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?_

_How would your garden feel if I came up behind you, bent you over that potting bench and tugged those shorts, your little cotton panties down around your ankles so I could slide my hands all over, under, inside, out… would you still hold on to your watering can?_

Edward huffed a laugh at himself, closing his eyes, the window fogging for a moment before evaporating back to clear. Bella was the one always talking about color. He wondered if she knew that she flamed brightest of all. Slowly, his eyes opened again, unable to stay closed when she was there in front of him. She wore a floppy sun hat and a demure little tank shirt that hiked up when she moved, becoming all the more brazen as soon as she reached for another bulb to plant into the ground. That secret sliver of skin across the small of her back ramped his heart rate up as sure as if she were spread naked over his bed sheets. Her perfect ass in her thin green running shorts… her legs that went on for miles.

He didn't know if Bella was the girl The Letter was talking about, but he couldn't imagine…

He couldn't imagine loving anyone else.

The Letter crinkled in his hand.

_Here's the very last thing I want you to do, the most important._

_Wait._

_I need you to wait for a girl._

_She knows who you are…_

Blindly he stepped away from the window and groped for his tennis shoes, his eyes full of girl and warm grass, dirt and sunshine.

He needed to run.

The packed sand disappeared under his shoes, the rhythm of the soft crunch, his breaths, in, out, in, out

He desperately wanted to believe that Bella, on some base level, remembered who he was from their first meeting all those years ago. She'd been so little though. Only three years old, but so self-aware. Edward, as a seven year-old hadn't known how to define the sparkle… the essence of the mermaid girl he'd fallen in love with that day. But he'd felt it. It was more of a deep-rooted knowledge, anyway… an awareness of a matched soul. Even at seven, he'd known that she was special. Surely she'd felt that too? Would that be enough to satisfy The Letter?

_She knows who you are…_

The fact that she knew him to some instinctual degree… at the very least, had met him before? He was grasping at straws, sure, but it had to be her. It had to be.

Please, let it be her.

The slap of his shoes coming down recalled the cadence of her name.

_Bel-la_

_Bel-la_

_Bel-la_

Until it was all he heard.

The small chance that he could hurt her kept him from declaring himself outright. He wasn't worried about the 'guy' she was supposedly waiting for. Call it a gut instinct, but he had the sense that she'd made him up to save face… or at least exaggerated most of it to make herself feel better after he'd told her he was waiting for someone himself. It didn't matter anyway. Whoever the guy was or wasn't, if he even existed… well, he wasn't _here_.

No, he was more worried about this girl he was expected to hang around for. How The Letter _knew_ was a mystery… but the fact was, things _happened_, they came _true_. He wanted Bella, not some other girl who thought she could just show up and expect him to drop everything and fall at her feet. And he cared about Bella too much to get involved only to have it blow up in his face when that magic date rolled around. June… _something_, 2009. God, it still felt so far away. And that was good because he didn't _want_ to know now… not if the girl wasn't Bella.

He slowed to a stop, his chest heaving, staring at the sand with his hands on his knees.

He could wait. But _what_ he was waiting for was shifting. Abruptly he thought of the hide and seek games he'd played with Mike and Jess when they were little. How he would run full-tilt into the bar squealing _hide me! hide me, Uncle Pete!_ How he'd squash his body into an empty Smirnoff box or take cover, trembling in excitement, behind the swing door to the kitchen. How his partner-in-crime would whistle the theme from Shogun and polish a highball glass, shaking his head solemnly at Mike and Jess when they came looking.

And then after a few moments Pete would say, "You come on out, pipsqueak. The coast is clear."

_The coast is clear._

He needed the coast to be clear. For Bella.

The sun hung low in the sky, flirting with the horizon, making the beach blush in pinks and reds. He doubled back and headed home, not stopping until he had draped his body over her garden gate and rattled the lock, groaning in mock exhaustion. He turned on the puppy dog eyes.

"Hey there garden girl, I got a proposition for you…"

She looked up, squinting, pushing flyaway hair off her forehead. "Oh yeah? It'd better be good. You're sweating all over my fence."

He snorted.

The fence in question was comically abbreviated, a little white thing, two sections with a gate that opened and closed quite needlessly, as anyone could simply walk around. It was what she'd wanted though, so he put it in the ground for her a month ago, teasing her about it mercilessly.

He grinned and made a show of leaning down, spreading his arms wide, almost able to touch each end of the whole thing. She lifted an eyebrow impassively, not giving an inch.

"You know anybody that has a birthday today?" he threw out, straightening. "I've got this dinner for two next door… shrimp and something or other… and a cake with candles." He shrugged.

"Chocolate?" she asked, slowly putting down her spade.

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe."

"I might know someone."

"Good."

A beat of delicious tension coiled between them. "So what's the proposition?"

He held his arms out. "All this and more just for a glass of iced tea."

The resulting smile that crossed her face made him tingle for days.

* * *

October 2008

His phone was ringing. And then it wasn't. And then it started up again.

Edward groaned and stretched, the joints in his shoulders popping as he rolled across the bed to see who it was. It would've been a good morning to stay in bed, hearing the glass in the French doors rattle as thunder growled in the distance. He'd admitted to Esme that he had sent a section of manuscript to a publishing house a few weeks ago. Great, she must have told his father. This was probably him right now, calling to let him know what a horrible idea it was. He'd never gotten over the fact that Edward had opted to stay in Summerside instead of finishing his degree and heading for greener pastures… a _real_ job in the big city.

He sighed, sure there were worse ways to wake up, but at the moment not able think of any.

Rubbing an eye with one hand, he turned the phone on and brought up the call log with the other. It'd been Bella. He sat up with a groan, the sheet pooling around his waist. Fuck, both times it'd been her. Frowning, he glanced out the window as he hit the redial. It was _pouring_ out.

"Edward?" Her voice was small and pathetic, lost in the background roar of the weather. Her teeth were chattering.

He was already pulling on jeans with his free hand, hopping around the room. "Where are you?"

_Wallet on the dresser. Shoes, where? …under the bed. Socks? No… fuck it._

"You there?" he said sharply when she didn't answer, pounding down the stairs. "Bella?"

"Uh… about seven miles out, I think. You know that big-"

"What? Down 26A? Where's your car?"

"Well-"

"Tell me where you are, I'm coming to get you. What—did you _walk?_ Are you crazy? It's pouring down rain!"

"GEEZ, _shut up!_ I'm under that huge oak tree right before the turn to go to Baybridge."

He could _hear_ her shiver over the phone.

"I rode my bike- I had to go get my license renewed. It was nice outside this morning, with all the leaves and everything but then it started raining," she mumbled, her voice trailing off right before a gigantic sneeze. "And then-" _sniff _ "And then it got really cold. _Freezing_."

"Christ."

"I didn't _know_ it was supposed to rain!" she wailed. "Will you—will you come get me?" she asked humbly. Like he would ever, ever say no to anything she wanted

He rolled his eyes, already pulling out of his driveway. "Only you, Bella."

* * *

Edward clicked off Days of Our Lives when he heard Bella's light footfalls up the porch steps. He didn't mind missing the last few minutes. It'd been a filler episode anyway.

"Where've you been hiding, neighbor?" He pushed himself off the couch to meet her at the door, giving her ponytail a tug. "Hey, come over here— check this out."

"I like your jack-o-lantern on the porch," she said hoarsely, the words suddenly launching her into a violent coughing fit. "I can't stay long… just a minute," she grimaced, clearing her throat after she'd gotten it under control. "Sorry."

"I thought you were getting better." He walked beside her to the bar, taking her apology as an opening. "You said it was just a cold." Scanning her body with a sharp eye, he decided that she looked flushed, her eyes a little glassy.

She ducked her head, embarrassed at his scrutiny. "Yeah, it is," she said. She crawled up and sat down heavily on a barstool, smiling at him tiredly. "But it's one of those that won't go away. I'll be fine though."

He hummed as he watched her lean into her hand, the slow blinks of her pretty brown eyes. She looked about half awake. "Okay."

"So what's your surprise?"

"Oh… well, it's not really a _surprise_," he brightened. "Hold on." He turned around, tugging something out of his pocket. "Don't look."

"Never," she yawned, finally letting her eyelids close. She drifted for a few moments until she felt the air shift, the smell of cinnamon, bourbon and Edward sidling up to her senses. And… cheap plastic? She cracked her eyes open to peek.

Edward wobbled and weaved in front of her, grinning with a set of rotten zombie teeth stuck in his mouth. He rolled his eyes and muttered gutturally, rumbling deep in his chest. "Brraaaains…." he moaned, angling for her neck surprisingly fast. Too fast.

She couldn't help it. Bella shrieked and scrambled backward off her stool, her legs kicking out in self-defense. She barely kept her balance, holding on to the bar with her arm. "Oh my god… Edw-" She looked horrified. One hand flew to her mouth to stem another coughing fit, the other hand gesturing to where she'd inadvertently kicked him between the legs. _Are you okay?_ She waved at his crotch.

"Holy shit, _fuck_," the zombie gasped, once he'd spit his teeth out and gotten his voice back. "Ah god, remind me never to scare you again."

Bella was still talking with her hands, unable to stop coughing. They fluttered protectively over his pants, attempting to apologize, he guessed.

"What," he wheezed in a weak voice, laughing, "are you- are you trying to rub it to make it feel better? 'Cause that would probably work."

Her eyes flew up to his, mortified, even as she snorted with laughter, watching him sit down gingerly, groaning, in a very human, non-zombified way.

"No, not even probably," he added from the floor. "It would. Definitely. You should try that."

Completely red, she dropped to her knees and curled up on the hardwood floor beside him, keeping her hands over her face as she laughed. "Oh, oh, it hurts," she croaked a moment later, clutching her stomach.

"No shit, Karate Kid." He stretched out beside her.

"Ugh, your floor is so uncomfortable… it's too hard."

An unrestrained giggle burst out of him. "There are so many things I could say-"

"Please, _don't_," she murmured, a slight smile on her face. She closed her eyes and sighed, whimpering as she felt another coughing attack coming on.

He sat up, pulling her with him. It was so easy to touch her. Too easy. "Damn, Bella," he breathed, suddenly serious. He registered her splotchy pallor at the same time he felt the warmth of her skin. "You're burning up!"

"I know," she rasped as she sagged against him, squirming into his lap, laying her forehead in the crook of his neck. "Don't feel good. And you've got it too cold in here."

"Let's get you home," he sighed over her head, thinking. It was a Saturday… and that meant an after hours clinic if he could even get her to agree to go. Struggling to his feet, he picked her up in his arms. "I don't know what you were thinking, coming over here. You should have called me. I'd have… I'd have brought you whatever you needed." She had all the weight of a feather and he wondered if she'd been eating, or if he should keep her here, upstairs in his room where he could take care of her. "Do you… what do you need? Do you need medicine? You should be taking Advil or something to get your fever down. Are you taking that? …Bella?"

He held her, hesitating in front of the door when she murmured from her place on his shoulder. Her breath was a soft puff against his neck.

"Orange juice."

"Huh?"

"Wanted orange juice. You have good orange juice."

"Why didn't you just walk to the grocery store?" he argued. But he was already moving back toward the kitchen. His girl wanted orange juice and he was going to get it for her.

"I wanted _your_ orange juice," she said simply, as if that explained all. "Can I sit on the couch?"

"Of course, yeah… yeah… here…" Edward turned from the kitchen back toward the couch. He was flustered. He would have been a shitty doctor; that much was obvious. Badgering Pete to take his meds was one thing… Bella with a high fever completely stressed him out.

There was a dreamy smile on her face as he fussed with the blanket, pulling it off the back of the couch and tucking it around her. She was curled up into a shivering ball of misery, pale, with purple shadows under her eyes. How did he not see this when she first came inside? He was a pathetic—friend?… person in love?… whatever the fuck he was now. Idiot worked too.

After grabbing the bottle of ibuprofen from the cabinet and pouring a large tumbler of orange juice, he hurried back into the main room. He sighed as he knelt down beside the couch. She was already asleep. Tentatively, he laid his palm across her head, hissing at the dry heat of her fever. Should he wake her up to take the medicine? Should he take her back home? Maybe she'd be more comfortable in her own bed…

Pressing his lips to her burning cheek, he stood and paced around the room, stopping to gaze blankly outside. Jake would be here in a little while, along with Happy Hour. He turned from the window and considered the girl curled up on his couch. She was a beautiful, pitiful mess… bright spots of color high on her cheeks, her hair a wild tornado falling over the side, just brushing the floor. Her lips were parted as she drew in quick little breaths, like her body had realized that anything deeper would set off another round of coughing. He cringed, wanting to fix her, but not knowing how. The rattle in her chest was obvious, even from across the room. So he did what any other self-respecting man in his situation would do. He pulled out his phone and called Mrs. Cope.

* * *

"Dude."

"Listen, I won't stay long… just long enough to get her settled, make sure she has what she needs and-"

Jake huffed. "No, I mean, _go_. It's not like it's Spring Break or something. Take a night off. I got this." His stance widened comically and his hands settled on his hips, fingers drumming. All he needed was some leather chaps and a set of spurs and he'd turn this place into a regular saloon.

Edward took a while to answer. "Well, okay, fine," he sighed. "But you'll call me if it gets busy? It shouldn't be busy, not tonight, even though it's Saturday… Halloween weekend…"

"I _know_. Go take care of Bella. She's not looking too good, man. Serious."

"Mrs. Cope said it was the flu."

"Yeah, but she's been coughing, right?" Jake moved in covertly, lowering his voice. "Has she been coughing up… blood?"

"What? I don't _know_," Edward pushed him away. "She's _not_ coughing up blood."

"Just saying." Jake stared at him, completely unfazed. "We had to watch this movie in dance class, with Nicole Kidman? Anyways, she was coughing up blood and stuff… she died at the end, man. It was horrible. She had the consumption."

"What the fuck, Jake? First off, it's a movie-"

"Dude, consumption is _real!"_

"I know it's real, jackass, it's another name for TB, which she does not _have_, okay? Bella has the fucking flu, end of story."

"Fine," He shrugged. "Hope it's not the swine flu. You know, as opposed to the _fucking_ flu. Which could be kind of interesting if you know what I mean."

Edward started to laugh. "Please tell me why you're taking dance class as a college junior."

"I can't believe you have to ask that." Jake snorted and crossed his arms, incredulous, lips flattened into a thin line that couldn't help but turn up at the corners. "Me and twenty girls in leotards. Are there any other questions?"

* * *

Why was he here? He shouldn't be here, like this. He shouldn't be lying here, with Bella… like this. In her bed, her pillows… under her grandmother's quilt with his shoes kicked off. She was gazing at him with secrets in her eyes. Her fever hadn't really broken, but he'd caught her in a rare moment of lucidity. He thought. Maybe.

"You're still feeling horrible," he murmured as they lay on her bed, his fingers glancing across her hairline, fingering the pretty shell necklace she wore before he forced his arm back to his side. "I can tell." She blinked at him slowly, most likely saving her words for something important. It didn't take much for her to start coughing. So he'd talked to her instead, not expecting anything in return.

"My hair hurts," she whispered, surprising him.

His forehead wrinkled as he tried to make sense of that. She'd said a lot of weird things in the past 24 hours, although most of that had been while she was asleep. "Ah… what?"

"Don't let them in, Edward," her soft voice pleaded, blurring into panic.

"Who, sweetheart?"

"Don't you hear them? But I don't have any roses."

Her eyes were unfocused, looking toward the window behind his head. He turned but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Fire burned across her cheeks. "Please," she whimpered, clutching at his arms. "Please. They'll tell you before I'm ready."

"I won't, shh, I won't." Illogical as it seemed, her anxiety had pricked his senses. He was on high alert as he gathered her close, trying to stifle the urge to roll over and eye the window again. "Everything will be fine, don't worry. Nobody's getting in." He was carting her to the hospital in Baybreeze early tomorrow morning for a chest x-ray. She'd only gotten worse. After a bit of Internet research, he'd diagnosed her himself as having some sort of pneumonia. He watched the shadows move across her walls and stroked her hair. Hopefully it didn't hurt.

"I love you," she whispered finally, sprawled across his body, their legs a hot, jumbled mess. And then she was asleep again, never aware that he had started to sweat, whether from her heat or her words he didn't know.

* * *

The pharmacist glanced at Edward over her glasses, typing the insurance requirements up on the computer. "And… this is for your wife?"

"No, no… she's just my friend. She's in the car. Do I need to bring her in?" Edward really didn't want to wake her up. Bella had coughed all night long. He didn't think she'd had a good night's sleep in days.

"No, that's fine," the pharmacist said kindly. "But I will need her driver's license."

"Yeah, I've got her wallet right here," he said. "Um… she has a temporary paper license but I'm pretty sure her old one is here-"

"No, this is fine."

"Okay."

He waited for the pharmacist to finish, checked the time on his phone, wondered how he was going to go about helping her take a bath when they got home. She'd said that she wanted one. The thought both terrified and thrilled him in equal measure. The pharmacist tucked the prescription in a little white paper bag.

"Pretty name," she said, folding over the edge. "Swan…" when she caught his curious look.

"Swan?"

"Your friend's last name… Swan? It sounds so elegant."

Edward nodded, bewildered, and took the bag along with Bella's temporary license from the pharmacist. "Thanks," he murmured, eyes wide, his world twisting right there in the candy aisle as he rifled through the cards in every slot in her wallet. There it was on paper, the temp license, printed on a plastic debit card, a library card… and again on a Surf-n-Turf Art Store frequent buyers card, this time written out in her own hand.

_Isabella Marie Swan…_

* * *

**I know- sorry to leave it there. But it's not like he's going to interrogate her while she has a 103 fever. Right?**

**Questions? You can visit the Twilighted thread (link on my author page) or accost me on Twitter (primarycolors1) or Facebook. (primarycolors fanfic)**

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**It will probably be more than a week before I can put the next chapter up... I got turkeys to cook, y'all.**


	41. What They Found in the Shed

**Remember when you guys were awesome enough to vote Firefly Fic of the Week over at the Lemonade Stand? Well that means I'm now up for Fic of the Month! If you'd like to vote the link is below... take out the spaces. :) Voting ends tomorrow!**

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**Lots of thanks this time... to my ever patient Faireyfan, the wonderful les_16, and my sweet rtgirl, who comes through in a pinch. And thank you jas... who read the prototype for this story way back in August 2010 when it was just a bar, a boy and a crazy twist. :)**

* * *

November 2008

She thought it might be the last mild day of the year and was determined to take advantage, now that she could actually sit up and pay attention without hacking up a lung. She loved being outside. The gulf was calm this morning, glassy, almost like a lake. If her dad had still been alive he'd have taken his little boat out from the safety of the bay and into the wilds of the ocean.

"Hey… I'm eating the last of this soup…" Edward called from inside the house.

"Okay," she called back, and grimaced at her weak voice. He wouldn't have heard her. She sighed. The energy it'd taken to battle the fever and coughing had been really slow in making a comeback. She let her gaze fall unfocused, barely registering the slow ripples of the ocean when she abruptly realized what time it was. "Hold on," she said as she turned around in her chair, making more of an effort. "_Edward_—its only ten in the morning…"

The microwave door opened and shut, the whirring and beeps making the case that maybe chicken soup really _was_ good with morning coffee.

Nah. Ew.

"Gross," she wrinkled her nose at him as he banged out the back door holding a bowl in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. A shiny spoon dangled out of his mouth. "How can you eat all that hot stuff," she murmured, watching as he settled into a wicker chair. She knew better than to call into question the tastiness of the soup, breakfast or not. "It's not even cold out."

"How dare you," he retorted with a mouth full of chicken. "This soup deserves to be consumed at all hours of the day." He made a slurpy humming noise. "Because whoever made this was a certified genius."

She laughed, her spirits brightening. "He was."

"This soup probably saved your life."

She agreed again, giggling, and sorted through the mail that had piled up. "It was wonderful. I owe the chef an immense debt of gratitude."

"Damn straight. And he has yet to decide how he will collect."

Bella glanced at him with a bemused smile at that auspicious (or not) statement but all his attention was on his… breakfast. She wasn't about to argue with any of that anyway. Frankly, she was relieved at Edward's light-hearted kidding. Things had been …_off_ for a few days. It wasn't anything she could have put her finger on really, he'd just been distant. Watching him scarf down the last of the soup, she decided that it was probably just her own perception that made her think things were different… after all; she was just getting over the pneumonia completely kicking her ass.

Edward clinked and scraped the bottom of the bowl with a sigh.

"Turn out the lights… the party's over…" he sang softly out to the ocean.

He wouldn't meet her eyes for some reason.

Storm clouds were moving in… building slowly, moody and sullen, shifting to let a beam of sunshine through here and there, but ultimately making their case for one hell of a storm.

Bella fidgeted in the silence that stretched between them. "Look at those clouds rolling in," she said lamely, because they'd both been watching the sky. "Looks like it might be bad."

"Might not come in at all. You never know."

But it _was_ coming; she could feel it. The wind had already picked up, tossing a few whitecaps back and forth out in the distance, the water gray and dull where the shadow of the clouds held sway. Lifeless. But closer to shore the waves still sparkled green where the sun danced across the surface. Bella was scared suddenly. It wasn't like her to be superstitious but the storm was an omen, she was sure of it. An omen of what, though? The future of their relationship? Because even with all the misdirection and lies and secrets, she'd never really thought that they _wouldn't_ make it. Especially when he remembered. Everything would be okay when he remembered.

As for whatever else the omen could mean… well, she wasn't going to think about that. She hadn't stepped foot in that ocean and wouldn't until... well, until whatever she felt looming was gone.

But what if… just, what if?

Bella started to tremble and clasped her hands together. _What if_ some things were always supposed to happen? Tears pricked her eyes.

_Get it together, girl!_

Edward saw none of her turmoil. He had thrown his feet out in front of him and crossed his arms across his chest; his head back against the chair. Even with his eyes closed he looked guarded. And completely unapproachable.

She forced her attention back to the small stack of mail in her hands. Mundane, something ordinary… that's what she needed. A couple of Christmas magazines, credit card applications, a postcard for a holiday open house at the outlet mall. It worked for a while, especially when she lost herself in a toy catalog, thinking about her little baby brother in Arizona.

But soon she caught her breath when the envelope containing her new driver's license turned up in her hand. How stupid… how easily Edward could have seen this! It was one thing to give the name _Bella Dwyer_ when registering to receive the latest Pottery Barn catalog in the mail, another to permanently change from Swan to Dwyer through official channels. She hadn't gone that far. She hadn't thought she'd needed to.

Edward's eyes opened, his gaze sharp. "What?"

"Nothing."

He let it go but looked back to the water, his brow furrowed, his face somewhat dimmed. The wicker squeaked as he sat up. "I need to go."

Something was wrong with him, she thought, there was a reason her stomach was twisting in and out, unease prickling up her neck.

_Tell him, _her conscience poked, _tell him, tellhimtellhim_…

_No, the time isn't right,_ she argued. _He's distracted. He's worried about something, I don't know. He'll be mad, disappointed that I kept this lie up for months. Besides, what do I say? How do I say it? Hey, by the way, you're supposed to love me. It's okay if you're not feeling it now; no obligations, but give it a few months just to make sure, okay? _

"Bella." His voice was terse. He'd already gotten out of the chair and was sitting on the railing, his legs swung over the side. Why did he do that, when there were three perfectly good steps leading down to the sand?

"Yeah?"

"Hey, uh…" he suddenly looked unsettled. "Remember that picture from when we were kids? You know-"

"Sure, of course. I remember."

"I'd been meaning to ask you, but your sister…"

"My…?" Oh god. How did he know? She could _feel_ the blood drain from her face.

"Yeah, remember- we're standing together, and your sister is with us. Blonde hair." A small smile flitted across his face but his hands clenched white on the railing where he sat. "She didn't look very happy to be there."

"Um…"

"Bella," he sighed, "I _remember_ that she was your sister. I was just wondering what her name was. Do you ever visit or anything?" He was beginning to get pissed off at her silence. "Look, nothing big; just trying to make conversation. If I'm _intruding_ or something, just tell me to fuck off, okay?"

She flinched, her heart hammering. "Uh, yeah, sorry… yes, my sister, _Lillian_. Her name is Lillian. She lives out in Arizona with my mom."

"Lillian, huh."

His eyes narrowed as he watched her nod.

"I take it you're not very close. You don't ever talk about her."

"No, not really close." She smiled weakly.

Disappointment was etched into every line of him as he looked over the dunes to his house. "Is she married?"

"Ah… no."

She didn't think it was possible but his shoulders slumped even more. Why would he be disappointed that her sister wasn't married?

"Okay." He hopped off and landed lightly on the sand below. "See you around. Glad you're feeling better."

See you… _around?_

Bella flew from her seat to look down at him from the railing. "Edward!" God, she hated that pathetic, pleading, begging… "Edward, what's wrong?"

He stood with his back to her for a few long seconds before he turned around.

"What do you mean?" he asked flatly.

"I—I don't know." And she didn't. "Did I say anything? Like… in my sleep. Or something. You know, when I was sick? I do that sometimes when I sleep. Talk… sleep-talk. Or I've been told that, although not recently… um… so maybe I don't do it anymore. But if I _did_… and I said something _bad_, well… I'm sorry. For whatever it was."

He allowed her to ramble, smiling slightly in spite of himself. He didn't know what the fuck was going on with her, why she would blatantly lie to him like that, but good god, she was beautiful standing up there. Even worried, pale and thin from being sick, lips chapped, circles under her eyes, she was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. It hurt to look at her.

He let none of that show on his face, though. "Yeah," he laughed shortly. "You said you loved me."

She choked back a strange little cry of distress and something ugly twisted inside him. Something with claws and sharp teeth because he could swear he was bleeding from the inside out, watching her shake her head in denial.

His eyes softened. "Crazy, huh?" he said, when still she didn't speak. "Don't worry though… I won't hold you to it."

As he forced himself to turn around and walk home, he willed her to call him back, explain all this to him, because he was in way over his head. He didn't understand. But she didn't call him.

She let him go.

* * *

Later that night, he finally closed the tab he'd had open on his Internet browser for two days straight. A Google search on Isabella Marie Swan had brought up many things, some of which he already knew. There'd been a short bio on the school website where she'd gone to college. They'd even had a gallery of her most popular paintings… but he hadn't stopped to look at that because his eyes had found the article that he'd unknowingly been waiting to see. A wedding announcement from The Arizona Republic in Phoenix.

_Announcing the Marriage of Miss Rosalie Lillian Swan and Mr. Emmett Dale McCarty. The couple was married in a small ceremony on Saturday, April 12th, 2008, at the William P. Howell Memorial Chapel in Phoenix, Arizona…_

…_presented in marriage by her stepfather, Philip Dwyer, the bride was attended by her younger sister, Isabella Marie Swan, of Savannah, Georgia, as maid of honor…_

The screen swam in and out of focus as he tried to make sense of everything.

So Em had married Bella's sister. Small world. But why should that be a secret? Jesus… was Emmett… did Em hate him for some reason? Enough to tell his wife's younger sister to keep the marriage a secret? That made no sense at all. Especially from Emmett. Or Bella, because he'd only met her in February… things weren't adding up. In fact, they were a fucking mess and he hated being on the outside of everything.

A quiet click as the laptop snicked closed. Why had she lied? He was just going to have to ask her about it, he decided; dread settling heavy around his shoulders. Surprise filtered through him when he realized that he didn't _want_ to know, not really… not when the answers meant that Bella Dwyer wasn't who she'd said she was.

"Here," Shelley Cope waved a sheaf of papers in his face. "I printed out instructions on how to put these up."

Mrs. Cope had been shopping in the city. Inspired by the holiday decorations in Baybridge, she'd decided that Summerside needed some of its own. Edward had laughed when she'd called him to do his civic duty and come put them up.

"What? You're kidding, right?" he'd teased her over the phone. "You got those tinsely things that hang off the electrical poles? We don't even have big poles like that, Mrs. Cope. Where're you going to put them?" But he'd come right over, chewing on a candy cane, tucking a couple of screwdrivers in his back jeans pocket.

They stood together on the front porch of the grocery store, looking around the tiny town square. There weren't any tall electrical poles, but Summerside did have some pretty street lamps. There were six scattered around the main street, each soon to be adorned with a glittery, tinseled embellishment. Mrs. Cope had proudly revealed a candle, a stocking, a Santa Claus face, an angel, and funnily enough, a dreidel and a menorah.

"Directions, huh?" He shook his head at the flamboyance stacked at his feet and hummed, amusement glinting his eyes. "Let's see. This one has three screws and …Velcro." Edward bit his lip. "I don't know, Mrs. Cope. It looks pretty complicated. You probably should've gone ahead and ordered the optional manual for $9.95."

"Oh, hush your smart mouth. You can't get out of this, Edward. You're my last resort." She studied him over the rim of her half-moon reading glasses, and rolled her eyes at his incredulous snort.

"Last resort! Who else would-?" His eyes widened at the elderly Reverend sitting in the rocking chair, smoking a cigar. "Seriously? You asked Reverend Weber to get up on a ladder before you called me? No offense, Reverend."

"The Reverend grinned. "None taken."

Edward chuckled and looked over the pages she'd printed out. The directions turned out to be one paragraph of common sense and two pages of ads. He definitely needed to show her where the _printer friendly_ button was. "Well, at least you got a full color coupon to Wal-Mart," he drawled, glancing at the last page.

He looked up when Mrs. Cope didn't answer, only to find her struggling with the ladder in the little storage shed, an old tumbledown one-roomed building attached to the grocery store. She used it strictly for storing outdoor items, as the roof had been missing boards since Hurricane Andrew way back in '92.

"Go sit down before you break your hip, grandma," he laughed as he jogged over. "Jesus." She popped him on the back of the head then kissed his cheek. Looking back at the porch, Edward called, "Sorry Reverend," grinning when the old man waved him off through his smoke cloud. The ladder must have been fifty years old if it was a day, but it still worked well enough, even if it did make Edward a little nervous to be at the top of it. "Okay," he grunted, setting the thing down on the grass. "Let's get this party started."

Edward was six feet up in the air, battling a stripped screw with dear old St. Nick when he heard the sweetest voice from down below. His eyes slipped shut as he took a deep breath.

After Edward had left Bella on her porch the other morning, they hadn't seen each other for several days… both obeying some sort of unspoken need for space.

"Mrs. Cope?" Bella called again, and stuck her head inside the store. "I'm here… what can I do?"

Edward grimaced, suddenly losing his grip on the Velcro under Santa's chin. "Damn," he muttered, "be still." He was surprised to see that his trembling hands obeyed him. He'd missed her even though he was angry with her. If he was truthful with himself, mostly that she was able to stay away from him just as well as he could stay away from her.

"Hello, precious," Mrs. Cope gave Bella a one-armed hug as they walked toward where Edward was perched, still at war with the Santa face. He'd traded his candy cane for a few large screws that he held in the corner of his mouth. "How're you feeling?" Mrs. Cope continued to Bella. "That special chicken soup did the trick didn't it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I was hoping you could tell me what goes where." Mrs. Cope said broadly, ignoring the fact that she'd obviously already planned everything out. A tinsled decoration had been laid neatly at the bottom of each street lamp, just waiting for Edward and his rickety ladder to work their magic.

"Well…" Bella trailed off much to Edward's amusement. He could feel her confusion all the way up at the top of the street lamp. The Hanukkah decorations were throwing her off.

"While you think about it, let me get the bows and the garland!" Mrs. Cope scurried away to the store.

"But it's not even December," Bella called after her, sighing.

It was quiet except for the creak of the Reverend's rocking chair.

"Hey," she said, looking up the ladder.

"Hey yourself."

She watched Edward secure the Santa face to the post and climb down the rungs, gasping at all the appropriate moments as the ladder groaned and swayed. Finally, after he had two feet on the ground she moved to touch him but drew her hand back at the last moment.

"That thing's not safe!" she exclaimed with a hand over her heart. It was laughable, really, because if he had happened to fall off the most he'd do is hurt his pride. So he did laugh. He laughed so hard he doubled over and had to rest his hands on his knees. This relationship, this day, this fucking _town_ was suddenly the funniest thing to him. God, the fucking _ladder_. He knew what he was getting Mrs. Cope for Christmas.

"Of course it's not safe," he said with a smirk, as if risking his life for the town Christmas decorations was all in a day's work.

"Maybe you should let me go up there," she offered. "I don't weigh as much."

That earned another chuckle. "Bella, there's no way in hell I'd let you go up that ladder." His smile faltered, though, with the sudden image of supporting Bella as she tried her hand at hanging the decorations… her feet on the wobbly rungs, his hands securely on her waist, her ass right at his eye level. Catching her in his arms when she inevitably fell off.

"I _could_," she frowned, appraising how high up she'd need to go. "If I started to fall I could just jump. It's not that far to the ground." She grinned when he started laughing again. "Shut up."

"Edward!" Mrs. Cope waved at them from the storage shed. "You're gonna have to get the box for me, sugar. It's too high."

"Come on, Evel Knievel," he said, tugging the clip from her hair, making it tumble down around her shoulders. "Make yourself useful."

* * *

"I reckon you're up to somethin' no good," the Reverend declared, watching Shelley Cope unpack the boxes of garland and bows she'd pulled out of her office a few minutes ago. "I might be gettin' on in years, Shelley, but ain't those the greens you sent those kids in after?" He blew a smokey ring in her direction.

"What kids?" Mrs. Cope answered primly. "I ain't doing nothing but spending my hard-earned money to try to put a little festivity in this town. Not that anyone appreciates anything 'round here."

The Reverend chuckled. "Now don't go gettin' yourself in a frazzle." He chewed the end of his cigar. "One thing I've learned in all my years on God's green earth, is that some were born to lead, some were born to follow, and some were born to meddle."

"Well, ain't that the truth!"

"Yep, yep, and you can lead a horse to water but you cain't make him drink. You ever heard a' that one?" He grinned.

"Well, Reverend," Shelley Cope straightened and looked him dead in the eye. "The Lord works in mysterious ways."

"Amen to that," said Reverend Weber, sitting back in the rocker, feeling good about life in general. "Say, you got any more of that apple pie hangin 'round? I always did love your apple pie."

* * *

"Well if I don't hold the door open then we can't see anything!"

"If you don't come over here, then I can't lift you up to reach, Bella. There's enough light coming in through the roof." Edward stood at the back of the shed completely shadowed, his rumbly voice stealing toward her in the darkness. "Get over here, scaredy cat."

"This is stupid. Just go get the ladder!"

"No."

"_Edward_."

"_Bella_. Come _here_."

She huffed, but moved toward him. "I'm not a dog."

A low, breathless laugh. "I would never mistake you for a dog, believe me."

"I can't see anything," she said, petulant. That wasn't really true though, she could see the boxes on the shelves behind him, the outline of his broad shoulders, a flash of white as he smiled. "It smells in here," she said, trying to calm her racing heart.

"I'm sorry," he laughed. "I forgot my deodorant this morning."

"That's not what I meant."

"What are you afraid of? You were ready to leap off the top of that ladder in the name of Ye Olde Summerside a minute ago." He reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in. "The boxes she wants are up on the top, I think. You're going to have to get on my shoulders," he said softly, his hands squeezing her under the ribs, as if testing how he would pick her up.

"Oh god, _don't_," she squeaked, putting her hands over his, tossing her head, arching slightly. "_Don't don't don't_…"

Edward stilled completely, but didn't let go. "Whaat…?" he whispered, his voice rough, even as he grinned, digging his thumbs into her sides. "Don't _what_, Bella? Don't tickle you?"

Edward had genuinely planned to go in the storage shed, get the boxes with Bella's help and finish up whatever the hell Mrs. Cope wanted done so he could get on with his life. He had an order he needed to place before three o'clock, invoices to sort, and mundane things to do like washing underwear and emptying the dishwasher. But her hair had been so soft when he'd run his hand through it, and she'd given him a look… something playful, something _more_, and god… it had hit him over the head like a fucking sledgehammer. It'd been so long since he'd given in to that sway, the urge to lose himself in the bliss of sex, of holding, touching, just being with someone.

And if he was going to stray from the almighty godforsaken Letter, then it was going to be with this girl.

He was still angry with her, so damned _furious_, but fuck, he was aching to feel her body against his. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, his perfect, sweet little innocent Bella, when whatever was going to reveal itself made itself known in June, but she'd lied to him hadn't she? She wasn't who she'd said she was so all bets were off. What else had she lied about? Would she even be truthful if he asked her?

He grew hot, lightheaded as he stumbled against her; her scattered breaths across his neck making him desperate to touch her.

Bella gasped and writhed, would have shrieked bloody murder but her voice was gone, still, he was merciless in his tickle assault. Finally she went limp, knees buckling, bringing him down with her on top of a huge bag of birdseed.

"Oh god, oh god," she wheezed, "uncle… I cry uncle." Her chest heaved as she pushed her hands, bracing them against his shoulders. His eyes gleamed in the semi-dark. Like he would let that stop him. Smiling slightly, his hands moved back to her waist, fingertips under the hem of her shirt, twitching. Her skin was so soft, warm. "Edward, _no_… _please_…" she squirmed against him, arching, begging, biting her lip… and instead of demanding she tell him the truth… instead of shaking her until her fucking teeth rattled so she'd understand how much she'd hurt him… instead… he fucking _moaned_.

They both stilled, staring. Both noticing that when they'd fallen, he'd landed right into the cradle of her open legs.

He hovered over her, panting, watching her parted lips, watching her catch her own breath. He'd left all semblance of reason at the door; he couldn't speak, could hardly think, couldn't do anything but breathe as he stared at her face, realizing with a searing intensity that all the frustration and anger he'd felt at her lies had flipped over into desire. Blistering, an all-consuming, fiery craving to have her, get inside her. Possess her, body and soul.

All bets were fucking _off_.

He blamed the trembling in his arms on the effort it took to hold himself still, as he lowered his lips to hers, in the barest, softest hint of a caress. It was the sort of kiss that seduced, delicate in its subtleness, the kind that made you desperate for more. Somewhere in the hazy back reaches of his mind, he knew that this would backfire, that to give in now could very well blow up in his face later. But he didn't want to stop. God, he never wanted to stop kissing her.

She seemed mesmerized, dazzled by the proximity of him, her eyes dark, languid. Waiting, waiting for him to do something more.

And he did. His fingers found the small of her back, splaying out, pressing up as his hips bore down into hers, his voice murmured her name, hoarse, full of need and something _more_, something pained, but she let him touch her and kiss her and God help him, she kissed him back.

"Edward," she said, her voice shaky as he bent to her throat. "Edward."

He glanced up at her through his lashes. "I want you," he said, lifting her hand to his mouth, placing a delicate kiss in her palm before he flicked his tongue along her wrist. "Will you let me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes."

* * *

**See y'all next time. :) Soon, I promise. Thank you so much for everything- your reviews and support. It means the world to me.**

**And finally...**

**I see you Bun. I know you're reading.**


	42. It's Me

**Sorry. This month has been...**

**A HUGE thank you for voting Firefly Fic of the Month over at The Lemonade Stand! Truly, I was so surprised! And thankful, and giddy and humbled. *hugs* all around. :)  
**

**Love to all my girls who help make this pretty. Faireyfan got this chapter early on but she might not recognize it now. Any mistakes you come across are surely mine. Jas and bun- xoxo**

* * *

_He glanced up at her through his lashes. "I want you," he said, lifting her hand to his mouth, placing a delicate kiss in her palm before he flicked his tongue along her wrist. "Will you let me?" _

"_Yes," she whispered. "Yes."_

He hesitated, surprised at her easy acceptance. That he didn't need to do a little more persuading.

"Bella…" his voice was unsteady, "I want… I…"

_I want you, I want your future. I want to know every little piece of you that you've been hiding away. Let's go away from here, we can run away, away from anyone or anything that could come between us._

He blinked down at her. "I want you to come home with me."

She blinked back. "Oka-"

"Now," he said, scrambling up. "You're on a bag of dirt for god's sake."

"Potting soil?"

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling strange, fuzzy at the edges without touching her. Kissing Bella had already changed him in some kind of fundamental way.

"No, wait," she said. "I think its birdseed…"

He yanked her forward and covered her mouth with his. It was remarkable, but every time he kissed her, she seemed to grow sweeter, the way she smelled, captivating. He was losing his mind. It was taking his every last shred of control not to push her back down and tear her clothes off, bag of dirt be damned. Or birdseed… it didn't matter. It could be a bag of fucking wrenches. He'd let her be on top.

"Let's go," he smiled against her mouth. "We'll have to make a run for it."

Hands clasped, they'd dashed in long shadows through the square, after Edward had waved to the Reverend on the porch, calling that he'd forgotten something, that he'd finish the decorations tomorrow. Lucky for them, Mrs. Cope had disappeared into her store and wasn't there to demand details and long-drawn-out explanations.

His grin egged her on. _Race you, _it seemed to say. They crossed the street without looking.

The sun was dying fast, too fast, the way it seemed to do after daylight savings time was over and done with. The wind, brash and confident now that the only warmth was sinking into the ocean, chased after them and followed them home. Bella shivered as Edward hauled her in the front door of the bar. He hadn't let go of her hand, not once. She wondered if this was real.

Upstairs now, she looked around Edward's bedroom with new eyes, trembling as his lips traveled down her neck, his fingers making fast work of the bra clasp at her back. She didn't even remember coming up the stairs. He groaned as he uncovered her, the sound sweet and sensual at the same time. The tips of his fingers charted their own secret way across her skin, delicate, skimming as he learned her, until something broke and fought free and he turned greedy, touching her everywhere without apology.

"Are we really—ooooh…" she moaned as he used his teeth on her nipple, soothing afterward with his tongue. "Are we… really doing this?" It was as if her brain had suddenly flown out the window, near impossible to think while his hands roamed. Bella opened her eyes. Somehow her shirt was on the floor and her pants were sliding down her legs, her white cotton panties welcoming the long fingers stealing in. If she'd known today was going to be the day, she'd have worn better underwear.

Unease nudged her conscience, though. They needed to talk. This wasn't how she wanted this to happen. But… oh _god_, he was like a drug… she couldn't think… all the reasons why they should slow down didn't seem so important anymore.

"Edward…" she sighed, "wait…wait…" It was important that she tell him. Tell him what? Tell him something…

"Shh," he hushed, licking into her mouth, twining his hand in her hair. "Don't think. Everything's fine…"

"Oh god," she gasped, every muscle tightening as she bucked against his hand. "I can't, I-"

"I think you can," he murmured, his lips traveling over her jaw. "You certainly feel like you can." He smiled into her neck when he felt her wetness, liking how she seemed to melt into his touch. Almost as if she'd wanted him just as long as he'd wanted her. He wasn't sure how that could be possible. Before he'd even met Bella, he'd wanted her.

"But I need to tell you…" her voice was raspy, her breathing labored as she quivered in his arms. She gazed up at him when he laid her on the bed. "There are things I need to say."

"Later," he promised. "Stop thinking so hard." Twining their hands together, he kissed down her chest, unable to stop a low rumble of satisfaction as she squirmed beneath him. Her blush was eating up her whole body.

"Edward…"

"_No_…"

He shook his head, thrusting his fingers back inside her, this time with a bit more urgency.

Why couldn't she let him have this? He didn't want another word to come out of her mouth unless it involved profanity screamed in the throes of an orgasm. If she stopped to think it meant that he'd have to as well. He didn't want to examine why after all this time, he felt like he could touch her. Now, after he'd waited for so long.

"Just feel, Bella…"

Fury and the maddening ache to be close to her fought and clawed each other inside his chest, and he began to be rougher with her than he would have been some other day, some other lifetime. If she happened to have a good reason for her deceit… her two-faced little lies that she'd been spouting for _months, months!_ …he didn't want to know about it. Was he acting unreasonably? Maybe, but he felt like a fool. If she was giving, then he was _taking_, goddamn her.

He bent and sucked her hard at the top of her sex, groaning when she jerked and cried out, pulling the bed sheet so hard two of the corners popped off the mattress. His need for her felt so intense, primitive and he thought he might be pushing her too hard. The unrelenting pace felt off, but _fuck_, it was no less than she deserved. Still, the compulsion to bite the ever-living hell out of her, mark her, make her bleed, punish her, disturbed him on a base level. What was wrong with him?

Edward forced himself to slow down, drawing out her pleasure. She was on the thin edge of falling apart, almost incoherent. His thoughts stuttered just looking at her. Beautiful, god, she was stunning; the dark spill of her hair over his pillow, her heated skin, the sweet smell of her was close to driving him insane. Her moans had bled into each other, so that a low keening came her from her throat. Head lolled back, face flushed, her lips parted with shallow breaths. He twisted his hand ruthlessly and watched her arch underneath him, soundless, snared in that sacred place that exists only seconds before a body explodes in pleasure. Heat, tight, wet. _Bella_.

He almost didn't want to give it to her, damn her for lying.

"You like this," he said in a low, gritty voice. He was painfully aroused, his jeans tight and uncomfortable. Both of them were nothing but a tangle of arms and legs, hers naked, spread wide as he leaned over her. "You like it don't you, my hand… fucking you…"

Her eyes snapped open, glazed, hazy with pleasure, his stark words flashing fire across her cheeks. He suspected she'd do just anything he asked right about now. Anything except tell the fucking truth. Cold seeped through his veins and he told himself this wasn't a big deal, touching her like this. He was just getting her off. It didn't have to _mean_ anything.

Except it did. It meant everything. God help him.

"Don't you, Bella?" He demanded an answer to a question he'd already forgotten even though she was clearly beyond speech.

Obviously she did like it, because she whimpered and tensed moments later, breath hot and fast, her fingers pressed into his shoulders. His anger fled as he watched her come down slowly, with the lone thought that their first encounter should have had more an element of sweetness. She'd deserved something reverent and beautiful and all the things girls dream about when they lie in bed at night, not an angry finger fuck in the middle of the afternoon. What a Jekyll and Hyde asshole he'd turned out to be.

He collapsed beside her, kissing her shoulder, her cheek, mouth. The sun was gone and it'd turned cold. His mind crawled with a mix of remorse and satisfaction, a healthy dose of panic that he tried to push down. Hurt was inevitable now; he could feel it. This was fucked up, so completely fucked up. Whoever, _whenever_ he had been when he wrote that letter to himself had never met Bella, he was sure of it. Why couldn't he have written a _name_? A fucking initial, some sort of identifier… hey man, your mystery girl has beautiful brown eyes and freckles on her chest that pop out after she has an orgasm. She tugs her hair when she's nervous and laughs at all your stupid jokes. She likes pina coladas, getting caught in the rain, making love at midnight in the dunes of the cape… holy fuck, he was batshit crazy. He had a bizarre urge to giggle.

"There's someone at your door," Bella murmured into his throat, a smoky, contented sound that spoke wicked things directly to his cock.

"I don't hear anything," he replied, hands moving with new purpose. She'd curled into him and he was coaxing her back out. God, he wanted inside her. They'd gone this far; she wasn't leaving this room before he fucked her brains out. Evidently his remorse wasn't strong enough to control his raging dick. "Was I…" he cleared his throat. "Was I too rough… before? Just a second ago?"

"Mmmm," she stretched and purred, pressing her body up against his. "No. But someone really is at your door. Can't you hear it?"

And then unmistakably, a voice called from downstairs. Jenkins. Aw, hell. He was gonna kill him.

"_Hiya, Mr. Cullen? I'm leaving these boxes on the porch. But you gotta come sign for 'em sir, or else they're going back. This is my third time out this week."_

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Edward groaned and rolled on top of her, crushing his hips into her so hard she shuddered. Punctuation on just how inconvenient his deliveryman was at this particular point in his life. He pulled back to look into her eyes. He was a goner, hell, he never stood a chance. Why did it hurt to love someone this much? "Don't make me get up," he whispered.

She bit her lip as a slow, delighted smile crept over her face. "Go," she said. "Its just Jenks. You need that stuff for Christmas." Her hand moved between them, touching him boldly through his jeans, making him suck in his breath. "You're still dressed so you'd better go on down. You won't be in a few more minutes."

Edward swallowed hard. This new and confident, sexy Bella… Where had she come from? Was he the only one that felt off-kilter?

"_Come on now, Mr. Cullen, sir! You're my last run of the day, man. I got thirteen boxes here. Mrs. Cope up at the grocery said you were home."_

A short burst of laughter escaped him at the complete absurdity of the situation.

"I've known him for seven years and I don't know how many times I've told him to call me Edward." He was rambling, nervous empty words to fill the strange spaces in the air that he'd never noticed before. "If Jenks knew what he was interrupting I don't think he'd ever look me in the eye again, y'know?"

"Go…" she said quietly, her words laced with promise. "Go and come back as fast as you can." She kissed his cheek.

He peeled himself away from Bella's body and stood by the bed, groaning when she reached out and shaped him casually with her hand, her fingers small and white against the rough fabric of his jeans. "Okay…" he sighed. "Less than a minute." He tugged his wallet out of his back pocket and pressed it in the hand that had just been over his crotch. "Condom," he said softly, leaning over and pressing his mouth to hers. "Back in a sec…" And he hauled ass out the bedroom door, pounding down the stairs. _"Jenks!"_ he barked. "You have the worst motherfucking timing in the world, you know that?"

"_Awww, Mr. Cullen! Don't be like that now… a man's gotta put food on the table…"_

Bella stretched and smiled to herself. She would start with _I love you, Edward. I've loved you for years. You've been waiting for me and I've been waiting for you. I'm tired of pretending… _the weight of her secrets began to evaporate, fast. It was time. It felt right. She wanted him to know everything. He might be irritated about all the cryptic things she'd said all year but surely she could temper that with rolling around naked in his bed. He loved her; she knew it. And that's why he would understand why she had to keep who she was a secret…

She rolled over onto her stomach and opened his wallet. License, a couple of credit cards… Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Frequent Buyers Reward Card…

She giggled.

His wallet had looked so bulky but there wasn't really too much in there… except… she pulled out a creased folded up piece of paper. Nope, no condom there. Although she guessed they didn't really need one; she was on the pill and neither of them had been with anyone else for years…

While her mind had been otherwise occupied, her fingers had reflexively opened the piece of paper, spreading it out over the bedspread. That it was written in Edward's handwriting was somewhat unremarkable. What the letter _said_, however…

Bella gasped and scrambled to her knees. What it said… oh god. Her eyes flew over the words, once, twice. If only she'd known what… known _who…_ Why hadn't he mentioned back in Colorado that he might write himself a letter? All this time… for months he'd been holding himself back… Now she knew the reason he always hesitated to cross that line into something _more_.

If she'd known he'd had this letter she wouldn't have worried about Edward being engaged to some blonde in a photograph. She probably would have waited that extra year. But then she never would have met Peter. She wouldn't have been here to help Edward as he struggled through those painful months after his death. She wouldn't have had this magical year, as frustrating as it was sometimes, of falling in love with him for _real_. Slowly. She'd thought she'd loved him in Colorado but those feelings paled in comparison to the emotion she had for him now.

Her hand smoothed over the paper lightly, keeping her touch reverent. It was old and worn on the edges; crumpled and coming apart where it'd been folded and unfolded along the same seams countless times. It was beautiful. It explained so much. So much.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she read over the last part again, the part where he said he loved her.

She jumped at Edward's footsteps pounding up the stairs a moment later. Panicked, she'd almost forgotten that he was coming back upstairs… she couldn't face him while blubbering like a baby. She bounced off the bed and made a run for the bathroom, the letter clutched in her hand.

* * *

Jenks was clueless as always, and would have chatted about individual blades of grass growing in the yard unless Edward had politely but firmly sent him on his way. By the time the door was closed and locked he estimated that he'd been gone about two and a half minutes. He didn't think it'd been too long. At least he hoped it hadn't been long enough for Bella to change her mind. Because he sure hadn't.

He tore up the stairs, taking three at a time, thinking of her naked and wet and gorgeous laid out on his sheets. He needed her in him, around him… a part of him. He needed her the way he needed air to breathe.

When he burst in the room a spike of loss flashed through him at the sight of the abandoned bed. But then he noticed that the bathroom door had been closed, thank God. A tiny sound of relief escaped him at the yellow glow of light stretching across the bottom.

He toed off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, wondering too late if he was being presumptuous. Maybe she _had_ changed her mind. He'd take his chances.

After a moment he tapped on the door. "Bella… you okay?"

She cleared her throat and opened the door, her huge eyes sparking with an intensity he didn't think he'd seen from her before. And holy mother of—she was wrapped in his hand towel. Although wrapped was not really the right word, he thought as his eyes flew to the bathroom mirror behind her, showcasing the parts _not_ covered. The exquisite slope of her back as it curved into her perfect ass would forever and ever be imprinted on his mind.

"Edward," she said, her voice colored with an emotion he'd yet to identify.

His heart was going double time as he searched her face. His arsenal of Bella-speak was coming up with nothing. This was new, he thought, this moment here, in this bathroom doorway of all places… this moment would be a turning point in whatever this thing was between them. He could feel it flicker over his skin. The anticipation, the crackling tension in the air, the expectation of something _more_.

"What's wrong," he said. This was either very good or very bad.

Something softened in her eyes. "Nothing's _wrong_," she whispered, visibly trembling. "Edward, I need you to know... I love you."

He sucked in a breath.

"For _years_," she said. And the tears that she'd wiped away earlier made a comeback, finding the familiar path down her cheeks. The little towel caught each one. "It's _me_, Edward. It's me you've been waiting for."

"It's you," he breathed. His heart stuttered in his chest and he knew he must look a little wild. "You know me."

She laughed. "Yes."

"You knew me… before." There were a thousand things Edward wanted to ask her—Why didn't she tell him? What did she feel? "How-"

"I couldn't-"

"I wanted it to be you," he whispered, his voice thick with tears. Words were so hopelessly inadequate. He'd pictured this moment in his mind so many times— he'd dreamed about it as he slept. In the daytime he'd never allowed himself to picture Bella as the girl in the letter. But at night… he'd never been able to control his dreams. At night it was her. It had always been Bella.

Reality was far more beautiful than any dream.

He tugged on the little towel and she let it fall. Trembling, he laid his hand over her heart. "Please," he said softly. And he pulled her to the bed.

* * *

**More soon. I have the next part written except for the bridge connecting this part and that, if that makes any sense at all. Thank you for reading!**

**DiamondHeart78 and I have been having fun writing a fluffy, sexy relay fic... she writes one chapter, I write the next, and so on. We're posting under the name PrimaryDiamonds and the story is called The Whole Package. It was meant to be a drabble fic but I think I am way too wordy. Anyway, go check it out! It's saved in my favorites.  
**

**Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah to everyone who celebrates! Spike the eggnog a little more when no one is looking... you can never have too much bourbon. ;)**


	43. How I Do, How I Do

**This chapter might be a bit of a rollercoaster. :)**

**Endless gratitude goes out to faireyfan. Everyone should have a faireyfan; they're good for the soul. But no offense, go find your own. ;)**

**Thank you to les16, who always makes time for me even though she has none to give.**

**bun and jas... xoxo**

* * *

_Why are you so far from me?_  
_In my arms is where you ought to be._

_How long will you make me wait?_  
_I don't know how much more I can take._

_I missed you_  
_But I haven't met you_  
_Oh but I want to_  
_How I do…_

_Slowly counting down the days_  
_'til I finally know your name_

_Oh, the way your hand feels round my waist_  
_the way you laugh_  
_the way your kisses taste_

_I missed you_  
_But I haven't met you_  
_Oh but I want to_  
_How I do_  
_How I do..._

"To Whom It May Concern" by The Civil Wars

http:/ /www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=OKygDoeIJBc

* * *

_November 2008_

Finally… _finally_, he thought. He'd known though, hadn't he? Some part of him had always known it would be her. In his blood, his bones, he'd known. Kissing her mouth felt so right, lining up his body with hers, warm skin, damp, her smell and sounds… how had he not recognized his home, all this time, right in front of him? Who else could make him abandon the Letter but the mystery girl herself? Edward thought he had wanted a woman before, needed another's body to bury himself inside, for pleasure, for comfort, or just because he could. But this- this went beyond anything he'd ever felt before. This was spiritual. Sacred. This was his soul.

He hovered above her, savoring the feel of her beneath him, fighting the urge to slam himself headlong into pleasure. He wanted to move slowly. After four and a half years of self imposed celibacy he'd always thought that when he _did_ manage to have sex again it'd be quick and wild, a mad dash to the finish line.

But this was _Bella_, not some stranger who'd appeared on his doorstep at the right time. Bella, the sweet girl who had sobbed when he couldn't even shed a tear at Pete's funeral, who'd clutched him in her arms when he finally did, going along with his ruse that it was a particularly sad episode of Days of Our Lives. She kept a box of Cocoa Pebbles in her cabinet in case he might want a bowl of cereal, and brought him calla lilies on Mother's Day because she knew they had been his mom's favorite. This was the girl whose image he kept in his head when he got himself off in the shower, even though he never allowed her name to pass his lips as he did it.

Bella, the girl he'd fallen in love with against the Letter's better judgment.

"Bella," he breathed into her neck, a thrill running through him at the sound of her name. Her name belonged to him now. He could say it as many times as he liked because it _meant_ something. It was a confession; it did things to his insides. "Bella."

Concerned, he kissed the damp tracks on the side of her face and made small hushing noises.

"It's okay," she whispered, putting her arms around his neck. "Happy tears."

He nuzzled them all away, sighing her name again and again against her hairline, the curve of her ear. She was wet and ready for him, trembling, the arch and angle of her hips begging him to come inside, hurry, hurry. He'd been teasing her, his hands and mouth everywhere but he'd held back, knowing that once he got inside her it'd be over quick. At least for him. It'd been so long. And he really didn't want this to end.

"Beautiful," he told her. "You're so beautiful."

For years the girl from the Letter had loomed, the promise of her arrival in his life impossibly large and imposing but beneath him was Bella, just Bella. Thank God. Relief was a hot bloom in his chest, shot through with desire and the glorious liberty to love freely, whomever he chose. _I choose you, Bella_.

"Oh," she gasped. Her eyes were wild. "Edward, _please_. I need you." She drew frantic circles on his chest, fingernails pricking, unable to be still.

"I'm here," he said, his voice soft, twisted with emotion. "I need you too."

His fingers tightened on her hip, watching her eyes roll back as he pushed hard, burying himself fully all in one thrust, gritting his teeth when he started to move. So good. So, so, unbelievably good.

Her breath was coming faster and faster, and each wispy gasp pushed him closer to the edge. If there had been a way to pull her into his own body he would have, to possess her, protect her, hold her beneath him and never let her go. He rose to his knees, pure male satisfaction smiling across his face when the new angle pulled a small shriek from her mouth, her spine arching; he licked his fingers and touched her as his hips worked.

Weeks later she would think of how he'd cradled her to him, sweaty and spent, how she could feel his grin spread against her back. How he'd whispered that he was so happy and that he loved her… that he thought maybe he'd always loved her. She would think of those moments and cry.

* * *

Bella woke at sunrise, grey ribbons of light yearning for the bed but never quite getting there. She shivered. It was cold and she was alone.

"Edward?"

"I'm here," he said quietly, a pale echo of the words he'd uttered in passion before. He was already dressed, sitting in the chair in the corner. It was still dark and she couldn't read his face but Bella immediately knew something was wrong.

"Why are you sitting way over there?" she asked in a small voice. She pulled the sheet up and tucked it under her arms, feeling vulnerable without her clothes. The room was abnormally still except for the bounce in Edward's leg.

Tears pricked her eyes when he was slow to answer. Oh god, she wished she could see his face.

"Your clothes are right there." As if he knew the dynamic between them was unbalanced.

And they were; she saw them considerately laid out on the foot of the bed. They looked much better crumpled on the floor, in her opinion. Any other time she'd think he was just being sweet and thoughtful, smoothing them out like that. Now it just felt like a push out the door.

"Edward, what's _wrong?_" The desperation in her voice sounded pathetic to her ears. "I thought… I mean, whatever's happened…" She coiled her hair around her fingers, tugging, not knowing what she wanted to say. "I don't know what's happened."

When he finally leaned forward out of the shadow, the coldness on his face knocked the breath out of her body. Never in her life had she seen Edward look that way at anyone. Especially not at _her_.

"Is there something you need to tell me? he asked softly. His voice was controlled but his hands were trembling.

She stilled and went pale right in front of him. Blindly, she reached for her shirt, the movements causing the bed sheet to slip down over her breasts, but Edward felt nothing, not one spark of desire. It was probably the first time he _hadn't_ felt that intense attraction to Bella, in all the time he'd known her.

Her head jerked up and down. "I-I do. I have a lot to tell you. Some of it-"

"Why don't you start with why you read this letter? he asked, his voice low and restrained. "You left it in the bathroom, in case you were wondering."

Her mouth hung open, her quick intake of air the only sound in the room.

"It wasn't yours to read." He could tell she didn't understand yet but he didn't care. He hoped she was uncomfortable. He hoped she was terrified.

Her mouth moved but she didn't speak.

"It wasn't yours to read," he said again, "was it?"

"I… _no_," her voice wavered, "but-"

"So what a coincidence that you'd pick last night to break your vow of silence about who you really were. Right after you'd read this letter." And then he could see that she suddenly _did_ understand. Her eyes widened but she didn't make a sound.

"It just seems so…" he waved his hand in the air and she could see the letter in his fingers, the paper sagging weakly along the creases, like it was tired of being the cause of so much conflict. "…convenient."

"It wasn't like that," she whispered.

"Then how was it?" he snapped. "Would you have told me if you hadn't read this?"

"_Yes_," she cried, her voice already thick with tears. Tears he would surely view as incriminating. "I swear I was going to tell you everything before we, b-b-before we-"

"Before we _fucked_?"

"Before we m-made love."

He slumped back in the chair and looked away. Like he couldn't stand the sight of her. "How can you expect me to believe you."

"Edward," she pleaded, "I'll tell you anything you want to know about that week. Everything."

"How about why you lied about your name, Bella _Swan_? Or how one of my oldest friends happens to be married to your sister?" he continued, his anger getting the best of him. "Why would you lie about that?"

Bella felt her face crumple, hot tears stinging her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him but it hurt, oh it hurt so much. She couldn't think of a thing that would make him understand. She'd forgotten all the words she'd planned to say.

"I had to," she cried. "Edward, I didn't have a choice."

"Sure you did," he said, every word laced with condescension. "It's called free will."

She shook her head miserably. "You had asked me not to tell you."

"I'm sure you'd say anything right about now," he said, his voice dangerous and low. He was on fire inside, burning with rage, and underneath it all was a hurt he could scarcely understand. "But why in the world would you hide that? I would have… I'd been waiting for you. Or maybe it's not you. For whoever it was."

"I didn't know. I didn't know you had that letter," she said, hugging her arms to her body. "And you didn't know me when we met again in February. How could I just say that you were supposed to love me? It sounds completely ridiculous!"

"I don't know, but anything would have been better than _this_." The words hung heavy in the air, full of regret. Disappointment in her, in them.

"And I wanted…" she trailed off.

"What."

"I wanted you to love me." She swallowed convulsively. "To _fall_ in love with me because of who I was… not because you knew you were supposed to."

"Mission accomplished," he said bitterly.

Her eyes flew to his face, seeing the hurt there. "I love you," she whispered. "I'll always love you."

Edward stood suddenly, his hands fisted at his sides. "Who are _you_ to make those decisions about _my_ life!" he exploded. Fuck, he had to get out of there. He was turning into someone he didn't like very much.

"Edward?"

"I can't do this right now," he muttered. "I have to go." He crushed the letter in his hand, shoving it in his pocket. "I am so fucking angry right now that I can't… I…" He slowly uncurled his hands, seeming surprised that they were shaking. He felt completely out of control and it scared him. He made himself walk calmly out the door but he didn't look at her. And he didn't look back.

He called Jake and stayed away for four days. When he came back she was gone.

* * *

_December 2008_

He sat straight up in bed, thinking about Bella and how they hadn't used a condom. Could she be pregnant right now? He rubbed his eyes and blinked, sightless in the dark of the room. If she were pregnant she'd have to come back, she'd have to tell him, right? She'd have to talk to him. The thought of his child growing inside her body sent a curl of fear and a curious warmth through his chest… he didn't care to dissect all the weird emotions, but he did want to talk to her. To make sure she was all right. Nothing more.

Slowly, he lay back down on the bed, clutching the phone to his chest. Three touches of the right buttons and it would connect them both in the dark. He could hear her voice. But the blankets tangled around his legs as he groaned and rolled over, tossing the phone to the floor. These were ridiculous thoughts because it was the middle of the night. What would he say if he had to leave a message? Worse than that, what would he say if she actually answered?

* * *

_You've reached Esme Cullen. I'm away from my phone at the moment, but please leave your number and a brief message. I'll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks!_

"Hey. It's Edward. Listen… I don't think I'm gonna make it this year for Christmas. I… well, I didn't want to tell you in a message but they're gonna publish my book. So I've got edits and stuff to do, you know. Anyway… exciting, huh? So give me a call when you get in. Bye. Oh! uh… you can tell Dad. I guess. And I'm sorry about Christmas. Okay… bye."

* * *

It'd been weeks and Edward still hadn't slept in his own bed. Pathetic, he knew, but it smelled too much like her. And it wasn't as if he hadn't tried to sleep there, he was still pissed off enough when he came home after those four days to say _fuck it. I don't care. It's my bed and that's where I'm sleeping._ But five minutes into it he'd been assaulted by the smell of her shampoo and that bath gel that she liked, a tiny trace of her perfume, even though she hardly ever wore it. Underneath all that was the earthy musk of sex and arousal. A dangerous combination. He knew he could have washed the sheets but he didn't want to. And he didn't want to think about why he didn't want to, either. So he'd closed the door and walked down the hall to sleep in his old room.

* * *

_Hey, this is the phone of Edward Cullen. Leave a number and I'll call you back._

"Oh honey! I am just over the moon about your news! I knew someone would pick it up sooner or later, I just _knew_ it. Your father and I are so, so proud of you. Is it okay if I brag a little and tell everyone up here? It's just so exciting to say there's a published author in the family! And don't worry about getting up here for Christmas. We're doing a little redecorating and it's a mess. Call me soon! Love you!

* * *

Edward was drunk. And alone.

He had a key to her house, just like she had a key to his. For serious things like emergencies and late night requests for ice cream though neither had ever happened. The key she'd given him months ago was bright and shiny and crisp, never been used. He'd never _had_ to use it; she'd always been home. The grooves lay sharp against the pad of his thumb as he sat on her porch like an idiot, freezing his ass off with his inability to decide if he should just _go ahead and open the fucking door, Cullen!_

_It's just a key, you ass, it's just a door._

Standing up, he braced himself against the doorframe, staring the lock in its puckered metal frowny face. It was by far and away the most imposing adversary he'd confronted all night. He held up Bella's key and shook it.

"You don't stand a chance," he whispered, only slurring the words slightly.

He tilted the key back and forth, watching the silvery edges of moonlight slide through the little zigzags, silent and fluid, a caress that flirted with the belligerent lock on her door. No… this wasn't just any key, he mused, this was a _virgin_ key. And because his thoughts seemed to scatter easily these days… whether it was alcohol or stress, lack of sleep, or plain old male stubbornness; his mind went directly to Bella and he wondered who had been her first. Her first kiss, her first lover. Who had skimmed her curves with their rough hands, knew the sweet smell of her excitement, how she tasted as she came?

He huffed at himself. Thinking of things like that hurt. They made his insides burn and his heart fly frantic, as if his head were something he could actually run away from. It didn't matter though, it didn't fucking matter because in the midst of all this secrecy and bullshit the one thing he knew to be true was that she belonged to _him_. Not because of a fucking piece of paper, and not because he'd had an out of body experience while fucking her on his bed.

He thought of the last time he saw her, how he'd wanted to either grab her and shake her senseless or put his fist through a wall. Instead he walked out and never looked back. All the things unsaid remained unsaid because he wasn't willing to hear. Falling forward on a sob, a small burst of adrenaline forced his hand forward and pushed the key into the deadbolt. The door swung wide.

A huge breath filled his lungs and he let it out slowly. God, she was in the fucking air. Something settled down and quieted in his head and he realized for the first time exactly where he was. Shit, what was he doing? It wasn't breaking and entering, right? Not really. He wasn't being creepy; he was merely checking on a friend's house while she was out of town. Hands fisted, he took a determined step forward. He had a _key _goddammit.

He wandered through her rooms in silence as if they might whisper her secrets. Where was she? With her family? Probably. Was she staying away solely because of him? Maybe. Between the two of them, who would break first? Either he would give in and finally call her on the phone or she would come back home.

He didn't know the answer to that one.

Her father's sketch hung on the wall over her dresser, reminding him of all the different ways they were connected, sun, sand and lemonade, the tongue-tied half truths and secrets that held his soul. He rolled his shoulders and shook himself, abruptly unsettled. Turning away quickly he made his way downstairs, heading the way he'd come in. He locked the door, pocketed her key.

_Sleep it off, asshole._

He shivered as he stumbled back home. There was really nothing to find inside Bella's house. He didn't know what he had expected anyway… there was no connection, no feeling of closeness just by being near her things. Just a ghost drifting without her light to lend direction.

* * *

_Call her…_

_No._

_Call her… why are you waiting?_

_Not yet. And I don't know why I'm waiting but it doesn't matter. Not calling._

_Call her anyway…_

Edward shook his head, just barely, feeling somewhat crazed as he flicked through the address book on his phone. She was listed under the B's as simply _Bella_, because he'd never bothered to add her last name. He was absurdly thankful for that.

The tip of his finger hovered over her name but dropped just a centimeter below.

He sighed as it rang and rang.

_You've reached Esme Cullen. I'm away from my phone at the moment, but please leave your number and a brief message. I'll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks!_

"Hey. It's me again." He cleared his throat. "Wow, I keep missing you… I saw you got some snow up there. I mailed something for you and Dad for Christmas. It's nothing much… So. Call me later, okay? Bye."

He flopped back on the couch, dangling his legs over the side.

"You're an idiot," he whispered to the ceiling.

* * *

He stared at the wreath for a moment before coming into the store, wincing at the obscene jingle jangling.

"Hey, anybody home?" he called. Mrs. Cope had taken her normal chime off the grocery's front door and replaced it with a long belt of giant jingle bells. He'd been dead serious when he told her it sounded like an apocalyptic horde of reindeer, but she'd only laughed and clapped her hands in delight. And the bells hadn't moved. She'd even tied a bow around them.

Shelley Cope straightened up from behind the store's tiny Christmas section, populated with dense rectangular fruitcakes and chocolate covered cherries, among other things senior citizens seemed to like.

"Hey there baby, long time no see." She beamed and wiped her hands on her apron, moving around the shelves to hug him.

"It's only been two days," he laughed.

"Well, that's a lifetime in this little town, you know that."

"Yeah." He did know that. His hand fussed restlessly in his coat pocket.

"Did you see my wreath out there?" She glanced at him over her little half-moon glasses as she straightened jars of jam. A benign question by all appearances but this was Shelley Cope. There was always a reason for everything.

Angela had talked Mrs. Cope into retiring her favorite plastic red velveteen kittens that had graced the checkout counter every December for as long as he could remember. And indeed, they _had_ disappeared until a few minutes ago when he'd noticed them hot-glued to her wreath on the front door.

"I did," he said after hesitating for only a moment. "It's a very nice wreath. I… ah, especially like the new additions." She smiled brilliantly. It was the right answer.

"Well, I saw something similar on the Martha Stewart program. You know, those little kittens are past being old. They're what you call _retro_."

"Yes, they're very popular," he agreed.

He watched as she breezed back around the corner to put the finishing touches on the mountain of fruitcake. "How're you holding up, baby?" she asked, having put on her serious face.

His first astonished thought was to wonder how in the hell she'd known he'd been wallowing in abject misery for the past few weeks. There were the edits on his book to take up his day, working the bar until all hours of the night and still she saw how lost he was? Was he really that transparent?

"I miss him too," she continued with a sigh. "Holidays are so hard without the ones we love. I was going through my Christmas music the other day and I remembered how he always used to tease me about my Mannheim Steamroller CD's."

Edward choked back a sound of distress as guilt settled over him. She had been talking about Pete. God knows he missed his uncle desperately; he would always miss him. But Bella had been his heart.

"Heard from Bella?"

"She's fine," he replied shortly, unsure if he was lying exactly, because he hadn't spoken to Bella since the day he walked out. He decided it was more like avoiding the question. "Busy with family… and stuff. You know."

"Mmhmm," Mrs. Cope made a vague sound of agreement. She gestured him forward and disappeared inside her office, coming out with a pie. "She said she was going to visit her mama when she left," she said, holding the pie out for him to take. "She didn't say when she'd be back so I'll give you her pie. Now don't you go eating it or I'll skin you alive."

He nodded. Pecan pie. He knew she'd love it. When she came back. She would of course; he just had to wait her out.

"Will you do something for me?" He pulled an undeveloped roll of film out of his pocket, juggling the pie in the other hand. "Will you send this off so I can see what's on it?"

"You don't know?" She took it from him, a fat little yellow and black cylinder, turning it over and over in her hand. "I thought you had one of those digital cameras."

"I do." He rubbed his hand on his jeans as if he were glad to be rid of it.

"Well?"

"I found it under my bed," he said. "And it's weird… I'd cleaned under that bed before, when I moved into Pete's room. But I fell asleep holding my phone and I had to move the bed to find it… and that's when I found that roll of film." God, he felt like he hadn't really talked to anyone in forever, now that Bella was gone. He just couldn't shut up. "I don't know, I guess it'd gotten trapped between the wall and the leg of the bed, maybe." He scratched the back of his head and took a step backwards toward the door. "It might be Pete's. I don't think it's mine. I used to have a camera that took film but for the life of me I can't remember where it is."

"Your old bed in that little room?"

"Yeah."

"Why were you sleeping there?"

"I don't know, jus-just a nap, I guess," he stammered, clutching the pie like a shield. He turned abruptly, setting off another jingle bell cacophony. 'Yeah, so… thanks Mrs. Cope."

Even though she hated letting all that cold air in, she caught the door before it closed and watched him jog all the way home, a frown marring her usual sunny expression.

* * *

As a bartender, you talked to everyone but you never really said anything. Since Edward's nights were filled with small talk and holiday platitudes he'd started carrying his phone in his back pocket in the event anyone called to actually say something of any _importance_. He'd even activated the vibrate function in case, for instance, someone wanted to send him a text and the bar was particularly loud. The problem was, once he did that, he started getting ridiculous vibrating alerts for everything.

"What. The. _Fuck_," he whispered, staring down at the screen.

"What's your deal?" Jake flipped off the lights. "You've been all melancholy and shit the whole night. If you miss Bella, just call her." For all of Jake's swagger about muscles and protein shakes and general brawny manliness, he liked to trot out little gems of introspective thoughtfulness now and again. "I mean, everyone knows you love her. Or you're _in_ love with her." He shrugged. "Whatever. I don't know the lingo. I just know what I see."

Was there a lingo to being in love? Edward shook his head, pushing away the twist of pain clamped around his heart. "It's nothing that radical," he said mildly. "I'm just tired of my ass buzzing for weather alerts and anytime somebody scores a damn touchdown. I just want it to vibrate for, you know… a call. Or a text."

Jake looked at him shrewdly. "I see."

"No, you don't see."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"What the _hell_, Jake." Edward scrubbed his hands down over his face, rubbing his nose. "Just fix it and get the fuck out."

Jake sighed. "My Christmas bonus better be good."

"If you don't fix it you're not getting one."

"Yeah, yeah… I've heard it all before," Jake murmured, scrolling through the setup options. "Well, fuck. You haven't even talked to her since before Thanksgiving! No wonder you've been such an asshole." He glanced up. "You know… the longer you wait the harder it gets."

Defeat dragged Edward's head down to the edge of the counter. He groaned pathetically and rested his forehead there, staring at the tops of his shoes. Damn, he needed to sweep the floor. And there was a quarter there in the corner.

Jake tapped Edward's head with the phone. "It's all fixed."

"Thanks," he sighed. He straightened and pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. "Merry Christmas, Jake. Go have one on me."

"Duuude, you are so awesome. The _best_." Jake grinned and reached for his keys. "Now I can go buy my mama a Christmas present."

"You've only got one day left," Edward said, wanting to laugh but just not finding the will. "You better hurry."

"Man, I _know_. But that's the way I like it. I love watching all the shoppers scramble around at the last minute—people get so worked up and crazy. That's when I go to the drive-thru at the coffee shop and pay for the person behind me… you know, just to be nice. You ever see that movie Pay It Forward? With that creepy kid from the Sixth Sense?"

"You're a good guy, Jake," Edward said softly.

"Hey, tell me something I don't know," he called from the door. "Oh… shit, I almost forgot." He walked a few steps and tossed a flat package he pulled from his jacket. "Mrs. Cope said to give this to you. It came in the mail today. And uh…" He waited until Edward looked up. "Hey… my mom, she uh, she baked you some cookies for Christmas but I kind of ate them on the way over here. Sorry."

Finally, Edward laughed. "It's fine."

"I suck."

"Jake, it's okay." He was still laughing. "You do kinda suck for that, but it's okay."

Jake blew out a huge whistling exhale as he pulled on his jacket. "Cool. Hey why aren't you going home to your folks again?"

"I've got some things to do around here," Edward said. "It's not a big deal. They have parties the whole week… their house will be packed tomorrow night. It's exhausting to tell you the truth."

"Yeah, I hear you," Jake said, stepping out into the night. "Call me if you wanna have ham and black-eyed peas with my mom and me. There might be coconut cake but I'm not promising anything."

"I will, thanks."

"Hey." Jake pointed a finger at Edward. "I got nothing but love and Christmas spirit for you." He thumped his chest. "Right here man."

Edward snorted and covered it up with a cough and a chuckle. "Bye, Jake."

* * *

He kept an eye on _Its A Wonderful Life_ as he wiped down the counters. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and an unspoken deadline of sorts. It'd been more than a month since he'd seen or talked to Bella, breathed the same sweet air that had swirled around the long strands of her hair. It'd been long enough. Long enough to be a stubborn ass that didn't know how to use a phone.

She should be here, in this room with him right now. He'd have tucked her into the couch with a blanket and popcorn, maybe spiked her eggnog. He definitely would have made fun of her ridiculous fuzzy socks.

The phone buzzed in his back pocket just as he was sitting down on the couch to open the package Jake had brought. It was the pictures from the roll of film; he could tell by the company on the return address.

"_Finally_," he answered the phone with a laugh. "You're a hard woman to track down."

"Merry Christmas Eve eve!" Esme sang, clearly having had one too many glasses of champagne. It was almost two in the morning, late even for one of Esme's parties. She sounded blissful and warm, and he realized it'd been too long since he'd seen them.

"Aren't you about to call it a night?" Edward teased. "Don't you need all the beauty rest you can get… or something?"

"Hush," she answered. "I'm just happy I managed to get you on the phone and not your voicemail."

"How was the party?"

"Ohh, it was a party for your father's colleagues. Stuffy and boring. I wanted to shove cocktail stirrers in my eyes all night long. You should have been here to liven things up." She blew out an exasperated breath. "I'm just glad it's over. Excuse me while I take off my earrings."

Edward waited, amused, listening to her fumblings as she prepared for bed. She was way more than tipsy. His stepmother was flat out drunk.

"Edward?" she came back on the line, apologizing. "You know I'd buy your ticket if you got a wild hair to come up tomorrow, right? I miss you, darling."

"I miss you too," he murmured. But not enough to hop a Christmas Eve flight into snowy Chicago just in time for another one of his father's stuffy parties, as she liked to call them.

"Well, I'll tell you why I thought to call you tonight instead of tomorrow."

"Okay."

We're remodeling those back rooms, you know, the library and your father's study…"

Mmhmm." Edward pulled at the flap of the mailer in his lap, fighting a yawn.

"…So I had them move that big painting of you into the living room. It looks quite nice, actually. I'm thinking of keeping it there."

Edward frowned. "When did you get a painting of me? You don't mean the portrait of me when I was twelve? I thought you'd burned that. It better not still be hanging up."

"Just for that I'm digging that thing out of the garage and putting it in your bathroom."

"Esme," he sighed.

"Okay… no, it was the one we bought… last year I think? From the art student. Edward, I _know_ I told you about that. Carlisle and I talked about it all night before we finally got you on the phone—we'd made up the grandest stories about a torrid love affair between you and this girl, but don't you remember? —you'd said you'd never heard of her. We were _so_ disappointed." She laughed. "It is an amazing, absolutely _amazing_ likeness of you. Anyway… everyone who knew you at the party was talking about it. It made me miss you."

Edward had been struck dumb. "I don't –I vaguely remember this, I think."

"She seemed so sad…the artist." Esme murmured. "And _now_ I've forgotten her name. I'll have to go look at her signature. There's no way I'll be able to sleep unless I know that poor girl's name." There were sounds of her walking through hallways, opening and closing doors. "I remember thinking that it was a lovely first name … and her last name was some sort of bird." She made a sudden disgusted sound. "Damn, I forgot my slippers. This floor is _freezing_."

He felt hot, heart galloping with adrenaline, his body's insane urging to get up, _get up_, and do _something_. But he stayed still except for the paper cut he'd given himself from crushing a corner of the envelope he'd been holding. "What did she look like?" he asked, his voice crackling, and even he could hear the stark longing in his words. "Long brown hair… and she was short, wasn't she?" He didn't dare ask if she'd been beautiful, he'd give himself away, inciting more questions from Esme than he'd know how to answer. Besides, he already knew the response to that question. Of course she'd been beautiful.

"See, you do remember," Esme declared. "I'm almost there. If you could've remembered her name it would have saved me a trip all the way across the house."

"Bella Swan," he whispered, letting his head fall back on the couch.

"Isabella _Swan_," Esme announced. "I knew it was a bird name!"

"Do you think… is that painting online?" he asked in a weak voice. "I can't remember if I've seen it." Before she even answered he knew it must be up on the Art School's site. Bella had had her own page but he'd never bothered to look at it. When he'd googled her name he'd been hell bent on exposing her lies about her last name and her sister's marriage to Emmett. Her student work had seemed unimportant at the time.

The distinct feeling of déjà vu was crawling all over him, he remembered feeling lost like this when he'd woken up to the mother of all headaches and a bizarre letter on the table beside his bed.

"Such a beautiful portrait," Esme said in a reverent tone. "I could have sworn she'd known you. Especially when her eyes about popped out of her head when I showed her that picture of you and Jessica."

His father was rumbling around in the background.

Edward sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What picture… and you remember _that_ but you couldn't remember her name?"

"Oh, I remember everything about _her_. She was precious. But so sad… I wanted to pack her up and take her home with me she looked so wretched. Like a little lost puppy." Esme moved the receiver from her mouth, her voice muffled. "Darling, go on to bed. I'll be there in a minute…"

Edward was so confused. He had no idea what picture of he and Jess Esme was talking about; she might as well claimed that he'd been on the moon. He had no idea of how any of this had happened, or even at what point it had all fallen apart. Why couldn't he just be a guy that lived next door to a beautiful girl?

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Esme's voice brought him out of his head.

"Fine," he said, though he didn't really believe that anymore. "I'm heading to bed, alright? I'll give you a call on Christmas."

"Yes, you will," she said, her feet twisting back through the maze of his childhood home. "Are you having Christmas dinner with someone? Mrs. Cope?"

"Yes," he sighed. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Just checking! I love you, darling."

"Love you too."

* * *

Vague strains of A Christmas Carol filtered upstairs, George C. Scott and rattling chains; it annoyed him that he forgot to turn off the TV. The laptop whirred to life on the little bed, balanced on a stack of towels he'd folded. He pulled up the art school's website and waited for the student pages to load, sliding his fingers under the flap of the photo mailer.

"There you are," he murmured, clicking on her name. The photographs chose that moment to slide from the envelope into his hand, and then he forgot all about the computer.

He stared for what felt like hours before he raised a trembling hand to push the pictures around on the blanket, sorting… _seeing_. Mountains, gardens, a younger Bella, round faced and sparkling, and him, all floppy hair and a stupid grin. Happy… no, more than that. He looked like he was on top of the world.

Tears welled in his eyes and he didn't know why, his thoughts tripping over each other in an effort to just understand what was in front of him. It was some sort of cosmic joke he wasn't in on, the punch line way fucking over his head. Instinctively he knew the guy in the photos was the one to write the Letter, but what had happened? Why couldn't he remember taking these pictures?

Bella looked so happy. They were mostly of her, some posed, some taken while she was unaware. She looked… she looked like she was in love.

He fumbled for his phone and called her number without a second thought, wincing when it went to voicemail.

Fuck, it was three in the morning.

He tapped out a text… _Come home._

Not enough, he thought. _To me._

_Come home to me._

_I need you._

_Please._

Nothing. He pulled at a loose thread on his sheet and stared out the window.

_I love you,_ he wrote.

And then…

_Okay_, she replied.

_I love you too._

* * *

**That's not too much of a cliffie, right?**

**Thanks for reading. I love your reviews even though I'm horrible at writing back. *hides*  
**

**Go check out the relay fic I'm writing with DiamondHeart78... It's been so much fun! The Whole Package, under my favs.**_  
_


	44. Trust

**Thanks you guys, for being so patient. :)**

**Love to faireyfan, who soothes my ruffled feathers, and to les16, who is always there with encouragement.**

**xoxo to bun and jas**

* * *

_December 24th, 3:12 AM_

He sagged back against his pillow, relief spreading warmly through his limbs. He could fix this. She still loved him.

_When?_ He texted back immediately. If she was in Arizona and if she left first thing in the morning and spent all day driving… he did a quick calculation in his head.

She hadn't replied back yet and he was getting impatient.

He tapped out a quick, _Can I call you?_

And finally, after a few minutes, she answered.

_No. I'll see you soon._

Edward blew out a long breath, staring at the phone.

Shit.

* * *

_Mid December_

"Well now." Mrs. Leonard settled down at her own kitchen table, the air saturated with the familiar smells of baking Bella had always associated with her childhood neighbor. "How's your mother?" the old lady asked as she broke off a piece of banana bread. "Oh Lord, that's good," she moaned, making Bella laugh. Mrs. Leonard had never been afraid to praise her own cooking. "Is she liking Arizona? I heard through the grapevine that you have a little brother! Now _that_ threw me for a loop, I tell you what." She took a generous sip of coffee.

Bella stalled and selected a cookie, letting the memories of the past few weeks sweep over her. Every single hour with her mother had been an exercise in frustration yet she'd been grateful for the excuse to leave Edward for a few days.

"Mom is… mom, I guess," she said, knowing Mrs. Leonard would understand. "Phil is great. He makes her happy. But you would love Noah… I spent most of my time entertaining him. I took him to the movies, the playground… the zoo… we even went to the water park," Bella smiled, showing Mrs. Leonard a picture of her little brother she'd taken with her phone. "We had a blast."

"Oh, he is precious! I'll bet you never thought you'd be a big sister, did you? Well now I've got to show you Mandy's boys," she said, eyes bright, getting up from the table. "They just celebrated their first birthday." She plopped a grandmother's brag book stuffed full of pictures in front of Bella.

"She had twins?" Bella's mouth popped open before curving into a smile.

"She did, and let me just tell you, they are a handful." Mrs. Leonard leaned back in her chair, obviously pleased with her grandchildren, rambunctious or not. "Oooh, and I still can't believe they moved all the way up to Canada. It might as well be the North Pole."

Bella giggled, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

"I knitted everyone scarves and mittens for Christmas," Mrs. Leonard confessed. "She'll never get used to all that cold up there."

"I hope they still have all their fingers and toes when they come down to visit," Bella teased. "You know Rose and her husband are living up that way, don't you? Emmett's an assistant defensive coordinator for the Michigan football team. Rose loved the snow at first but now she hates it. You should've sent them some mittens too."

"Good gracious, what in the world is happening to our Florida kids moving away like that? Even Janie's up in North Carolina. Don't you ever move away, Isabella Marie." She shook her finger at Bella. "I mean it. College is one thing but Florida's in your blood."

Bella's heart twisted painfully. "Oh, Mrs. Leonard," she sniffed. How many times had she yearned for an ounce of Mrs. Leonard's passion and love for her family to come from her own mother? In the two weeks Bella had spent in her mother's house in Arizona not once was she asked about where she lived, or if she was seeing anyone, or how her career was going. What seemed to hurt the most was the continual hope that things might change over time. Maybe next time Mama will care. Always the next time.

"Oh, honey! Dearest, of course I didn't mean that _really_. You go where your heart takes you, darling." Mrs. Leonard looked flustered and pushed the plate of cookies toward Bella. "Here… go on, eat something. You'll feel better."

"No, it's not that," Bella laughed through her tears. "I just wish… Sometimes I wonder how different things would have been if Daddy hadn't died."

At that, Mrs. Leonard got up from the table and pulled Bella over to the couch, tucking her under her arm. "Now you listen here. I was here long before you and Rose were born, long before your parents were even married and bought that house next door. And I have good eyes in my head, Isabella. You and that mama of yours just don't click. You never have and probably never will. You always were a Daddy's girl but I think you know that." She smoothed Bella's hair back from her forehead. "You got your beautiful face from your mama and your heart from your daddy. Don't dwell on the things you can't change."

Bella nodded, wiping her face.

"Now look at how late it's gotten," Mrs. Leonard smiled. "I hope you're gonna humor this old lady and stay the night. I wish you could talk some sense into the rednecks that bought your old house… did you see all that blasted lawn furniture out in the front yard? Next thing you know there'll be an old rusty car up on blocks. They got more money than they do brains, that's for sure. And would you believe the man over there has a tattoo of that Spongebob fellow on his arm? It's true, girl. I've seen it with my own eyes…"

* * *

Bella spent most of the night gazing out the window toward her old backyard, at the huge oak where her tree house used to be. Her rope swing was gone but the limb that had held it was still there, a black and knobbly gash across the moonlit sky. She thought that if her father was anywhere, he was here, not cold and alone in some windswept cemetery. Their roses had grown wild, curling and twisting into the woods behind the house. She imagined the Rose Fairies had taught the Woodland Fairies some modicum of good manners and etiquette, in turn learning to embrace the wildness she always knew lurked inside their little hearts. And somehow she knew Charlie would have liked that.

* * *

Bella sat in a hotel room just south of Montgomery and tried her call again. She'd decided to just leave a message and wait for Dr. Shan to call her back, but when he actually answered this time she almost dropped the phone.

"Oh! Dr. Shan? Hi, it's Bella. Bella Swan from-"

"Bella! How are you?" Shan sounded exactly as she remembered. She breathed a little sigh of relief, her spirits lifting just hearing the sound of his voice. "How's Summerside?"

"Oh, it's great… great… I'm actually on the road right now." Bella could feel herself start to ramble. "I went to see my mom out in Arizona and then went by my old hometown… and then I visited some friends up in Savannah. So… yeah, I'm on my way home… for Christmas, you know." She tried to pull her scrambled thoughts together. "I'm surprised you answered the phone, actually… I figured Stanford would be closed for the holidays."

"Oh, I'm always puttering around, in and out," he laughed.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Shan asked if anything was wrong, and if Edward was okay, reminding her of her reason for calling in the first place.

"How much can I tell him?" she asked, her words coming out all in a rush.

"How much does he know? Shan countered.

Bella sighed. She should have figured he would answer with a question. "Are you aware that Edward wrote himself a letter?"

"I knew it was a possibility," he said. "We had discussed different options to aid in keeping his uncle healthy. I was very sorry to hear of his passing."

"Thank you," Bella murmured. "So… how did you know? Have you kept tabs on us? I mean, now that I think about it, it makes sense for you to do that."

"Just in the general sense. Nothing too alarming, I assure you," he said with reassurance. "It's fairly easy to do these days, and I was very interested in how Edward would alter his life, knowing what he knew."

"Like how he stayed in Summerside and didn't go to New York?" she asked. That Edward would ever live in New York seemed so strange to Bella. She could never picture him anywhere other than Summerside, behind the bar, laughing, throwing his shoes out on the porch after a run, sprawled all over his couch watching Days of Our Lives with his threadbare jeans and stressed-out crazy hair. He had a habit of running his hands all over his head while he watched The Show He Always Denied Watching, especially during the Friday cliffhanger. She hated to think of him living somewhere he couldn't see the ocean, or feel the breeze coming in off the water.

"Exactly, choosing not to live in New York was a substantial redirection of his previous life trajectory," Dr. Shan said and then hesitated. "…I'm a little surprised by your original question though. How have you lived in Summerside these past few months and kept who you are to him a mystery?"

There was a sour note to her small laugh. "It wasn't easy."

"I could be wrong," he said slowly, "and forgive me for intruding or second-guessing your decisions, but didn't Edward give you a specific date for you to arrive in Summerside?"

"Well…" Bella hedged. "To answer your question, yes… but it's complicated."

"I'd expect nothing less, to be honest." Dr. Shan's warm chuckle came over the line and she relaxed, the sound sending her abruptly back to Colorado. Her memories of that time were like a patchwork quilt, varied and stitched together in a tangle of feelings, bright, lush with pleasure but inevitably frayed at the edges, stained with the memory of his leaving. Silverware clinking, fancy white tablecloth… she'd been awed by the boy sitting beside her, all wild copper and green eyed, how he'd looked at her with a strange mix of possessiveness, euphoria and despair.

She'd been young, so young. Naïve. Hopeful. In love with the idea of being in love. Of being wanted. She hadn't understood the despair in his eyes, then.

But she did now.

"Bella?" Dr. Shan brought her back to the present. "May I ask what is the state of things now? I had a feeling you'd be drawn there at the time you'd originally met. If you hadn't been motivated in one way, it likely would have been another. There are some things that fate sets in concrete no matter how hard we try to change them." He paused. "Inevitability, you might say."

"At the time I had good reasons for coming earlier than he'd asked me to." She sighed. "But doing that has caused its own set of problems." She hoped he didn't ask for specifics, and to her relief, he didn't. "As for the state of things... well, he knows now that I knew him before. And that I didn't tell him. He has lots of questions." Well, she thought he'd have lots of questions. When he calmed down and got over being a jerk.

"Naturally, of course he does." Dr. Shan hummed. "Bella, I'll be truthful. We're all shooting in the dark here. Edward is the only authentic time traveler I or anyone else here at the university has come across. Over the years I've been able to develop a number of theories, the strongest of which suggests that Edward has learned to enhance an ability that we all possess. And he's done this unknowingly, entirely oblivious to the fact."

"What? What ability?" That she was astounded was an understatement.

"Well, every person with a properly functioning temporal lobe is able to access their own memories. Naturally, there are exercises to improve memory function and some can remember more vividly and further back in time than others… there's an excellent memory exercise I found-"

"Dr. Shan," Bella pleaded.

"Right, right… my apologies. I often get off track. Well, provided I'm correct, Edward has simply stumbled upon, most probably through a period of great emotional upheaval, how to not just access a memory, but to actually project himself there, in the past, to that particular recollection. He must have been extraordinarily motivated. Memories and emotions are very closely linked. Incredibly so." Dr. Shan cleared his throat as if gearing up for the big reveal. "Mentally traveling in time is something we all do by remembering. A sensation called chronesthesia. We are able to make decisions for the future based on our past experiences, or memories. It's how we as humans, learn."

"Okay." While Bella hadn't been expecting a flashy time machine, she was a little awed that Edward jumping backwards in time had indeed, been a product of his own miraculous brainpower. It seemed like such a simple explanation.

"I'm explaining this poorly," Shan sighed.

"Oh… no, it's just-"

"The bottom line, Bella, is that if this theory is even remotely close, then I can't predict _when_ Edward will regain all of his memories, just that it will be soon. Back in 2004, Edward and I had decided on June 2009 because it was essentially when he had left. It was just an educated guess, since he had already changed his future so drastically by altering yours. But I believe now he could come back at any time, as long as it was a date that already existed in his memory. A day that he had already lived through. Does that make sense? He couldn't jump to August for example, because August 2009 doesn't exist for him yet. So even June would be impossible," he murmured, as if to himself. "I believe Edward told me he left 2009 in late May…"

"Do—do you think I could trigger his memory somehow?" Wild hope rose in her chest, her heart racing. "If I tell him everything?"

"No… but to answer your earlier question, I think it would be reasonable for this Edward to know what has happened to him; that he traveled backward in time and met you five years earlier for the purpose of altering your future. I'm hesitant to advise you to reveal the catalyst for the time jump, however. I suspect Edward himself had already made an unconscious decision back in 2004, concerning what day he would return. He might have thought he didn't have any control over where and when he traveled through time, and consciously he didn't. The subconscious however, is a totally different animal. So, for when he returns, so to speak? In all likelihood it will be a day that holds extreme emotional significance for him."

They were both silent for a moment until finally Bella whispered, "The day I died."

"Yes." Dr. Shan said quietly. "There is that."

"But I don't know when that is… he never told me a date. Just that it was morning and a horrible storm was kicking up," Bella said, as goosebumps rose on her skin. "As long as I stay away from the ocean I should be fine, right Dr. Shan?"

Shan didn't have the heart to remind Bella that she had been drawn to Summerside in February 2008 because that was the month she and Edward had always been destined to meet. It could have happened in countless ways… if she'd been driving through town, her car might have broken down in front of Edward's bar. A girlfriend might have invited her to vacation at the beach, and Summerside suddenly had the best rental prices. A million ways, a million reasons. And all that boiled down to the fact that if Bella Swan were destined to lose her life on Valentine's Day 2009, fate would find a way to make it happen.

* * *

_December 24th, 10:41 AM_

"Bella," he whispered behind her, and she jumped and whirled around, heart pounding. It'd been thirty-two days since she'd seen him, thirty-two days since she'd been seen. Edward stood in the doorway of his old bedroom, shirtless, absently scratching his chest. His voice was gritty and raw, a perfect match for his smudgy eyes and untidy hair… paired with his oldest pair of blue jeans half unbuttoned and Bella thought she might hyperventilate. But overriding all of that was his look of sheer exhaustion. "Hi," he said, sounding a bit lost.

"Hey," she stammered. "Sorry—but I was sure you'd be asleep. That's why I let myself in." Her eyes darted back to the mess of photographs on the bed. "I went to your room- and then I couldn't find you." She'd been surprised to see him using his old bed. There had been no signs of life in the front bedroom whatsoever.

"Haven't slept," he mumbled. "I can't." He rubbed his eyes like a little boy.

She couldn't stop looking at the pictures, even after they blurred and melted into pools of indistinct colors from the tears. "I'd wondered what happened to those." Swiping a hand across the wetness on her face she felt herself blush, catching sight of a candid of her in the meadow beside the waterfall. Fully dressed in the picture, but it hadn't been for long. She tucked her hair behind her ear self-consciously, taking a furtive glance at him. "I'm sure you have questions."

He nodded and then shook his head. "But- you just… came in." He meant it as a question really, because how could she come back to him so easily after the way he'd spoken to her before? His fingers twitched as if they couldn't believe they weren't already touching her somewhere.

She sighed. "You said you needed me, Edward," she said with a little shrug. So straightforward. As if it'd always been that simple. Maybe it was.

He felt himself crumple right before her eyes. "I'm so sorry. For that morning. I… overreacted and…" He swallowed convulsively. "I love you, Bella," he said in a choked voice. "And not because of a piece of paper or because it's fate or whatever… It took me a while to figure out, but all that stuff is unimportant compared to how I feel… what you mean to me." His lips wobbled into a shaky smile. "I'm probably not making sense."

"I think you make perfect sense," she whispered, stepping toward him tentatively.

"Whoever it is that you love in those pictures…" He glanced at them on the bed, reaching out with long fingers to tug on the hem of her shirt. "I want to be him." Hands skated up her arms to frame her face. "I've done so many things the wrong way," he whispered, "I'm impatient and frustrating and I say stupid words, but the one thing I know is that I love you. God, I love you. I know it deep inside myself Bella, in places where I couldn't change it even if I wanted to." He laughed weakly, a half sob. "I've loved you since the moment I saw you swimming on my beach when you were three. Other stuff just got in the way for a little while."

Bella smiled, wistful and warm as he swept his thumbs under her eyes.

"Don't cry," he murmured, kissing her gently.

She blinked up at him before pressing the side of her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around his naked back. He could feel the breath of her sigh as she exhaled, the tickle of her wet lashes as she closed her eyes.

Edward responded instantly as the warmth of her touch flooded him, surging through him until it touched his heart, his soul. This was about more than love, he realized as he held her. Bella made him a better person. With her by his side, he became something more.

"Oh, Edward," she said, her words blowing softly between them. "You've always been the man in those pictures. Even when you didn't know you were."

He rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Just… don't ever leave me like that again. It was the most horrible month of my life. I mean, I know I deserved it but... I'm pretty sure I couldn't live without you," he laughed softly.

She tensed slightly and he felt her eyes fly open against his chest. She was quiet for so long that he began to wonder if he'd said something wrong. But after a long moment she murmured, "I won't. I won't leave you. I promise."

They would be okay; he could feel it. The sense of completeness that swept over him was staggering. He had questions, so many questions, but if he never learned a single thing more he would be happy just to have her in his arms like this. He pulled back just enough to tip her head up.

"I love you, Bella Swan," he said softly, his lips brushing the words against her mouth. "So much."

She nodded, her own words lost as he slowly kissed down her neck. Sweetly. Reverently… mumbling that he'd missed her, that he'd been lost without her. Bella trembled, attempting to rein her body in, not wanting to ruin the gravity of the moment. But damn, the way he smelled… he was already half naked and his voice was doing that growly thing and the faint stubble on his face scratching as he pulled her shirt aside to kiss her shoulder… it was seriously making her dizzy. She closed her eyes, biting back a moan.

"Listen…" he ran his nose along her collarbone, skating his hands over the sides of her breasts. "I don't want you to think this is about sex or-"

"No, no, it's okay," she breathed in relief, fingers flying as she released the remaining buttons on his jeans. "I know… oh god, I know it's not…" she gasped as he pushed himself into her hand. He was warm and hard through the thin cotton of his underwear. She rubbed lightly, relishing his shudder.

"Fuck, I want you… I always want you," he groaned, stepping out of his jeans. She kicked off her shoes as he ripped her shirt over her head and fumbled with her bra clasp. "All the time… I want you," he mumbled into her mouth, pulling her hair free of the little clip she'd put in the back, shoving her jeans past her knees with his foot.

She turned in his arms, clad only in her panties, intending to pull him onto the bed with her when she remembered the pictures from Colorado spread out all over his blanket. "Wait! Let me get these out of the way," she said as she bent over, letting out a little squeal when she felt Edward's tongue on the back of her thigh.

He smiled at her gasping laugh and hooked his fingers under the elastic of her underwear, sliding her them down, over her calves, each foot, slowly. "Take your time," he said as he knelt behind her, and pressed his open mouth between her legs.

She moaned and he added his fingers, loving that she reacted this way. She'd widened her stance for him, already on the verge of coming after only a few minutes. Spinning around on the floor, he sat with his back against the side of the bed, tugging her trembling legs until she lowered herself to sit on his lap.

"Like this?" she breathed, as she slid down on him, rocking back and forth at a slow pace. His hands gripped her hips as he watched where they were joined, gasping when she swiveled in a particularly wanton manner.

"Holy—do that again," he said, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when she obliged. "Where did you learn that?" His eyes narrowed at her smile. "Wait- don't answer that."

She smoothed the hair back from his forehead and kissed his temple, losing her train of thought at the pleasure coursing through her body. "You," she whispered in his ear. "I've only ever been with you."

Edward stilled their movements, alarmed. "You were a virgin?" he choked out. Horrible didn't even come close to the way he'd feel if she'd been a virgin last month… he knew she'd orgasmed but he'd been rough with his hand the first time he'd touched her, even if afterward had been slow and sweet. How could he have been so insensitive? He didn't remember there being any blood but he'd never taken a girl's virginity before; what did he know? And the morning after… how he'd treated her. He suddenly felt sick.

But Bella had other ideas, resuming their slow slide. "I haven't been a virgin for years," she said in a low laugh, kissing his neck. She grabbed his hand to put his fingers where she moved over him.

"Oh," he murmured. _Oh_.

So much he didn't know, it was overwhelming. Memories that she had of him, _with_ him that he had no idea about. Damn it, he was jealous of the other guy, and the other guy was _him_. All that history between them… he wanted it. _He_ wanted to know that Bella in the pictures. He wanted everything.

"You'll remember, Edward, I promise," she said in a breathless voice as she sped up. "Oh god, ohgodohgod_ohplease_…" she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

Fuck, he was sure her fingernails were bringing blood where she clutched his shoulders but he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life. And if he had he couldn't bring it to mind. She cried out over him as his finger drew circles, his other hand rubbing across her nipple. Did she know she held his heart in her hands? The things he felt for her took his words away, took the very breath from his body.

She slumped over him, purring into his ear. "I can't move," she said in a throaty whisper. Gently, he shifted her back to lie on the floor and kissed her chest, her neck, her mouth, catching her sigh when he entered her once more.

She wiped her hand over his cheek as he moved over her. "Everything will be okay, Edward," she whispered. "The hard part is over."

He nodded, trusting. And he believed her.

* * *

Later, after they'd made a dinner out of a block of cheddar cheese, crackers and a Hershey's bar, they were dressed again, if only minimally, and she lay across him on the couch downstairs. He abruptly rolled her to the side, rubbing his hand across her stomach. He looked pensive.

"What?" she laughed.

Edward shook his head. "I just can't think when I'm with you… that's my only excuse and it's not a very good one. Bella, I've never had sex without a condom. So, don't take this the wrong way… but please tell me you're on birth control."

"Of course," she replied, somewhat automatically, even as her stomach did a little flip. She'd had her period a few weeks ago but hadn't refilled her monthly prescription because she'd been nowhere near her pharmacy. She made a mental note to get a new pack as soon as possible, wondering how soon they would open after the Christmas holidays. She needed to make a run to the art store anyway. "But maybe we should use a condom from now on as back up," she said. "To make you feel better, okay?"

She looked up at his face. He had relaxed but looked somewhat disappointed. She couldn't figure him out. He was so hard to interpret sometimes.

"What now?" she rolled her eyes and smiled, pulling up a corner of his mouth with her finger.

He squeezed her side. "If you were pregnant you know I'd take care of you, right?" He looked so serious and determined she thought she'd float away from the happiness. "I mean… it'll happen someday. You want that don't you?"

"Someday," she agreed, kissing him lightly.

"We'll do that together."

Bella snorted. "Well, I can't do it _alone_."

"Oh, you're so funny," he growled into her neck, tickling her mercilessly. And as she screamed and thrashed with laughter, arching into him trying to get away from his fingers… suddenly there were way too many clothes in the way.

* * *

**Only one (maybe two) chapters left... can you believe it? This has been an incredible learning experience for me. I'm so glad you've been along for the ride. Stay with me though- you won't want to miss the end. :)**

**I'm convinced I have the best readers. I've been absolutely blown away by the fantastic reviews you guys leave, every single day. Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.**

**xoxo**


	45. Marry Me

**Happy Late Valentine's Day! I meant to get this out yesterday but it didn't work out that way. If your inbox is like mine though, you had plenty to read. Lots of good updates yesterday.**

**I split this into two chapters because it was just too long. You can expect the last one on Friday, hopefully. :) And then a small epilogue.**

**Faireyfan knows how much I love her. :) Thanks also to the wonderful les16.**

**bun and jas, xoxo**

* * *

_January 2009_

"Tell me something new. Something I didn't know, before."

He fingered the necklace around her neck. It was a funny feeling to know that he'd picked it out… had already given it to her, fastened it around her neck himself and he didn't remember a single second.

"Hmm," she breathed against his chest, and he closed his eyes at the feel of her lying next to him. It was rainy and cold outside, the wind screaming through eaves. But inside it was warm, lazy in the cotton sheets of his bed. She rubbed her foot up and down his calf.

"The house where I grew up," she said, "my street had lots of trees. Spanish moss hung down everywhere, making these canopies where I could hide and play. Everything seemed mysterious and wonderful and… I don't know. I lived in my own little world. My dad would hide presents for me and write these cryptic runes on the tree trunks that I would have to figure out."

He smiled, running fingers through her hair, still damp from their shower.

"My favorite part was the names of the streets in my neighborhood; they were all different colors of green. We lived on Olive Street." Bella's eyes were far away. "But there was an Emerald Street… Hunter, Pine… Jade… more than that. I can't remember. I couldn't even really read yet, but when my dad told me that all those names meant green, I had to see. I made him show me how they could all be different but still the same. And then we were mixing colors and suddenly," she paused. "Suddenly I saw shades of green everywhere. In my crayon box and in all my secret places outside. I could see how they were all a part of each other. The subtleties, the graduations. It was like a revelation. I told my dad I wanted to know all the different names for all the colors, ever, in existence." She laughed. "And he told me that I could mix them all myself and give them my own names."

Edward hummed and thought of the clever little girl she must have been. He brushed a section of her hair over his cheek. Swish and tickle, the prickly feel of the ends.

"Your eyes are green," she said suddenly, tracing his eyebrow. "I'll have to think up a special name."

"I love you," he said, pulling her fingers down to his lips. His hands on her back whispered the same thing, skin on skin. _I love you._ His kiss in the hollow of her throat, his hum of contentment as she curled her body into his… all shades of adoration, knowing that the world had finally righted itself after years of wondering.

* * *

"Now I know why Emmett would never talk to me," he said to Bella while he stood over the pot of soup on the stove. "I only tried to call him a couple of times back then but he never returned any of my messages. I always assumed he was busy with the team or something. And then I guess I stopped trying."

His throat was tight. Somehow his world had ended and begun without his knowledge during a week he couldn't even remember. Being with Bella these past few weeks was startlingly domestic… and it felt _right_. Effortless. He wouldn't have changed that. They'd chatted around toothbrushes and he'd seen her pick up panties with her toes and toss them in the hamper. He ate the sandwich crusts she always left behind and knew how much ice she liked in her glass. One of her little pink bras was hanging on his closet doorknob right now.

But having the puzzle piece of her fit him in all the right places didn't stop the feeling of being unbalanced somehow. It made him antsy.

It seemed he would always be waiting for that day when he would just _know_ things. When he wouldn't have to ask.

"It was as if my life stopped when you left, Edward," Bella had confessed back in December when she had told him everything. They'd spent the night out on the porch with a thermal blanket and a space heater. A bottle of wine. The sound of the waves mixed with her words. "It had stopped…" she'd whispered, "and then it started again when I met you in Mrs. Cope's store."

"But that wasn't the first time you'd met me," he'd corrected, trying to get it right. "You met me at the lake house party. On _that_ night."

It had bothered Edward immensely that she'd been hurt so badly he'd miraculously been able to go back in time to protect her. Crazy. Impossible. How had he been able to accomplish something so ridiculous? It wasn't as if he didn't believe; he did. The Letter made sure of that. And he was glad he'd been able to be at the party to save her but another, deeper part inside him didn't understand why they couldn't have continued on as they had been, before he'd done whatever he'd done to go back in time. The attack hadn't been her fault. Surely he'd loved her enough to get past it… to help _her_ get past it. Why, then? Had he felt the need to fix her? Had she really been so damaged? The possibility that he might have seen her as inadequate had disturbed him most of all.

"When is that doctor coming again? And get your hot ass in here. Lunch is ready." He frowned at the empty shelf in the cabinet, checked for bowls in the dishwasher instead.

"His name is Dr. Shan," she said, putting a grocery bag on the counter. "Toward the middle of February. Mrs. Cope put in extra tomatoes; I don't know why. I think she's hoping I'll miraculously start to like them or something." He laughed when she shook her head, making a face.

She was busy putting coffee away in the pantry when he came up behind her, slinging an arm around her waist, pressing up against her so that she felt the soft delicious weight of him against her lower back. His kiss landed on her ear and then he was gone, calling her to come have soup and crackers.

* * *

"I don't get it," he said one afternoon on the couch, watching her eat ice cream. She lapped at the spoon like a cat, her pink tongue curling and sliding, making his eyes cross. He can't decide if she's fucking with him or if she truly doesn't know how ice cream and silverware work together.

"What?"

"I went to all that trouble and I didn't even get a DeLorean out of the deal?"

Laughing, she shook her head. "No… just me." A small grin flickered across her face. "But I'm _fast_."

His hand snaked under her shirt. "Hold on… where do I change the oil?" he murmured, grinning when she yelped and shoved his cold fingers away.

"What a cheeseball you are."

He ignored that and sighed mournfully, pulling her all the way onto his lap. "I hope you get good mileage."

"If you take good care of me I'll last you a lifetime," she whispered, cool breath in his ear.

"I'll never trade you in for a newer model," he said with a solemn look.

She gave him a sweet smile and slid off his lap. "I'd run you over if you did."

"You heartless woman. I'll just call you Christine. Here, don't get up- give me that," he said, putting the empty bowl on the table beside the couch. He pushed her back down and grabbed her foot, pressing his thumbs into the arch. He kneaded slowly, delighted when her whole body went boneless.

"Whoa, oh my god…" She breathed noisily through her nose and let her head fall back. "Don't stop doing that."

He pulled her other foot over his knee. "Jesus, listen to you. Can I make you come like this?" he joked, laughing when she kicked at him. He held her foot easily even when she tried to jerk it back. "Come on baby… scream my name." He bit her toe, making her squeal.

"Never!"

"You shouldn't really have said that," he said, springing on top of her, his fingers digging into her sides until she shrieked.

* * *

The bathroom door opened, light spilling across the floor in a clean cut rectangle.

"So?"

"It's fine," she said from the doorway. She ducked back in to wash her hands.

Edward sat on the edge of the bed, his knees bouncing. "Well, what does that mean? Exactly?"

"I'm not pregnant," she said, coming to curl up on the bed next to him. She ran a finger up and down a belt loop at the back of his jeans. "This is coming loose," she murmured. "I can stitch it back for you if you want."

"But you're still late for your… thing." He lay down beside her, his head at her knees. "Turn around," he grumbled.

"You make it sound as if I'm late for a dentist appointment," she said with a light laugh, settling herself so that they were face to face, sideways across the wrinkled sheets. He immediately pulled her into his arms, tucking her under his chin. "You can say it… come on," she whispered. "_Period_."

"Hush." He kissed the top of her head. "There are some things manly men do not discuss."

"Being late or skipping a month isn't really a big deal for me anyway." Being on the pill had regulated her periods but it'd really been hit or miss before she'd started taking them in the first place. In her mind, it made sense that her body would revert back to its old pattern.

"I don't know how this works. Maybe you should go to the doctor. Just in case. That test could be unreliable." He frowned. "I knew you shouldn't have gotten the drugstore brand."

"That has nothing to do with it, I'm sure." She rubbed her stomach. "I don't feel pregnant."

"Have you ever been pregnant before?"

She pulled back to see his face. "No."

"Well then. You're as much in the dark as I am," he said, a lopsided smile on his face. "We should get married."

"_Edward."_ Bella's mouth flew open in a gasp. "I said I _wasn't _pregnant. We don't need to get married."

"You could be. It's too soon to tell." He ran his tongue lightly under her ear, savoring the small shudder that went through her body.

"I thought you said you didn't know anything about all this stuff."

"I know how to google _pregnancy tests and how they work._"

She let him kiss his way down her body while she gazed up at the ceiling. The light danced and moved above them, bouncing off the water outside. He rubbed his nose back and forth over her belly button.

"Hellooo…" he boomed, the vibration from his voice tickling, making her laugh. "Anybody in there?"

She sat up, cradling his head in her lap. "You're insane."

"Am I getting two for the price of one?"

"There's no one in there, Edward. Sorry to disappoint."

"Are you disappointed?" he asked softly, looking up. He reached and tweaked her nose, lightening the abruptly heavy moment.

Bella hesitated, then, "No. It's good that I'm not. We didn't plan to have a… baby." For some reason it was difficult to get that word out. The silence settled around them.

"Your hair gets all red when the sun hits it," he whispered. "There's a crazy red hair halo all around your face."

"Is there?"

"Let me know when you want to get married, Bella. I can get all the champagne you want wholesale." He wound the red around his finger.

She smiled down at him. "Is that a proposal?"

"Maybe." He paused. "Do you want it to be?" The light had moved. Red was now chestnut.

"Maybe."

Edward snorted lazily. "Well, I'm glad _that's_ settled. You're living here anyway. All you need is a ring." He turned his face into her stomach and breathed deeply. "You smell good."

"I can't believe now that I finally own my own house I leave to come sleep in your bed. Like you would let me leave, anyway." Her stepfather had contacted Mrs. Cope and arranged to buy Bella's house for her Christmas present, putting it all in her name. She pulled her legs out from under his head. "Come here. You're such a romantic, wanting to marry me."

"I'm a pragmatic romantic," he murmured, crawling over her, kissing. "I don't know, Bella. My head tells me this is new but at the same time this feels like it's been five years in the making. I don't remember everything but I know what you mean to me." He hummed as she ran her fingers over his head, tugging the short strands.

His declarations never failed to move her. "I love you," she whispered, tears in her voice.

He grinned into her neck. "Oh god, don't start crying now. Being overly emotional is a sign of pregnancy. Sure you're not packing down there? If you're craving pickles I'll run to the store for you."

"Shut up," she said, slapping his arm. "You're the one packing."

"Damn straight."

"I'm not overly emotional."

"Whatever." He hitched her leg up and rubbed slowly against her. "Is this the kind of abuse I can expect when we're married? You just slapped me and told me to shut up. Your hormones are whack, girl." He nibbled along her collarbone.

"You don't really think I'm pregnant, do you?" she asked worriedly and he stilled, looking up at her seriously.

"Nah." He nibbled her fingers, kissing them sweetly. "I'm teasing you. But even if you are, everything's going to be fine. Maybe it's not the best timing but I would love a baby we made."

She sighed. "I know."

They stayed still on the bed, lulled by the sound of the waves and the dancing light on the ceiling. The afternoon had reached the moment where the day seemed endless, the sky stuck on bright white. The heat whirred to life in the house, blowing gently through the vent.

"Marry me, Isabella."

She turned to look at him, running her hand over his shoulder. His green eyes were bright, serious. He shivered when she cupped his neck. "Okay."

* * *

"It's not totally official, you know," he said a few days later. "I haven't given you a ring." He'd finally convinced her to jog with him in the afternoons. It was nice to have someone to talk with while he ran, especially since Pete had died, but what he was really enjoying was the way her breasts bounced up and down as they raced along the beach.

"Planning something elaborate, are you?" Bella slowed down to pick up a shell.

"The whole point of exercise is to keep your heart rate up," he said dryly. "That means not stopping for something you could find five feet from your back door." But he let her tuck several shells in the back pocket of his shorts anyway. He hoped he remembered to take them out before he sat down.

"I don't need a ring," she smiled at him shyly as they started back up. "All I need is you."

He grinned at her stupidly. "Stop it. That goes against your southern girl code or something, doesn't it? Besides, Mrs. Cope would skin me alive." They ran in silence a few minutes more before he said, "I might already have it. Ever think of that?"

"Yeah, it's probably in your pocket right now," she laughed.

He glared at her then glanced away. "No," he said loftily.

"It is!" She cackled. "Come on… give it." She reached out, acted like she was ready to tackle him, giggling when he danced away.

"Geez, bridezilla. What some people will do to get engaged," he said, offended.

"Stop playing so hard to get." She laughed and flipped him off.

He sprinted way ahead of her. "Let's race," he called, jogging backward. "I'll let you strip search me if you win."

Of course he was faster but he let her catch up. He even let her search for something he knew she wouldn't find. Not today, anyway. He was having it sized.

* * *

_Peter shrugged. "You might want your mom's ring. But I know your Aunt Lottie would have been tickled if you used hers. I would be too."_

"_It's really pretty, Uncle Pete," Edward said, holding up the ring. The diamond sparkled in the twilight coming in through Peter's bedroom window._

_Edward politely spent a few more minutes turning it around in his fingers, puzzling over the reasons his uncle might have for telling him he could use this as an engagement ring. He didn't even have a steady girlfriend! He wrapped it back up in the special cloth and sealed the little plastic bag. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble Uncle Pete," he sighed, deciding that honesty was the best policy. "But I don't see myself getting married. Like, ever."_

"_Never?" Peter's eyes sparkled._

"_Nah. Well, I mean, if Jennifer Anniston moves next door I might consider it." Edward grinned. _

"_It'll be here when you change your mind someday," Peter said, tucking the ring away at the top of the closet. He tousled Edward's hair affectionately. "You're driving now. Just watch what you're doing with those girls you take out, y'hear? Now that you know where the ring is, you won't have any trouble finding it in case you get somebody pregnant."_

_Edward flushed. "You don't have to worry about that Uncle Pete. I mean… geez. You just don't. Seriously."_

"_Okay then," Peter said lightly. "Good. You should save it for the girl you actually want to spend your life with. And by "it" I mean the ring. I think it's too late for the sex part, right?" He sighed and clapped his nephew on the back. "Don't get all embarrassed on me now. Listen, you shouldn't want to get married right now. I'd be worried if you did. But as bad as marriage sounds to you right now, it'll sound that good when you find the girl that's meant for you."_

"_Yeah. I really, really can't imagine that," Edward mumbled, his eyes on where he knew Aunt Lottie's ring was hidden. His face was still bright red._

"_I know," Peter smiled. "But you will. Give it another ten years or so."_

* * *

He stretched out on the couch, giving her plenty of room to curl up on top of him, using his body as her own personal pillow. She dozed lightly while he surfed the channels, settling on a rerun of an NBA game, which he promptly muted. There was an endless to-do list running through his head; he needed to make another order to stock the bar, decide on what special he would run in February, only days away. He needed to do the taxes.

Later, he thought.

One hand smoothed the back of her thigh, his eyes on the TV. She held his other hand, her thumb tracing the inside, a secret map she seemed to want to memorize over and over again.

Five minutes passed in the game while he watched without seeing anything, feeling unsettled and not knowing why. It wasn't asking Bella to marry him; he was sure about that. No, it was something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

When Bella had told him everything about that missing week in 2004, what they'd done and said, where they'd gone together, he'd felt a curiously strong attachment to her words. As if they were so true he'd always known the story somehow… that the missing week had been dyed into his deep tissue and he'd only just found it etched across his skin. But on the other hand it was as if he was hearing about a favorite character in a novel he'd just read. The actions, the narrative familiar, but in the end still just a story.

"We should turn your faucets to drip in case it freezes tonight," he murmured. "Those pipes are so old… you'll have a mess if they burst. It happened to Pete one spring when there was a cold snap years ago. I was still in school up in Chicago but he called and told me about it. Made me paint the kitchen when I got here in June."

Before the Letter, before _Bella_, he'd have considered the idea of time invariant. Ceaseless and untold. But time wasn't like that. It was fluid, a medium to be molded and stretched, like the wild whirl of the sea, it's occupants tossed around to fit some master plan of which they had no knowledge. He didn't know how or why he'd been given the opportunity to backtrack but he was thankful, even as he wondered if he could somehow manage to do it again. What if he could hop around in time… what would Pete think if he appeared out of nowhere and told him to let his faucet drip at night so the kitchen pipes wouldn't freeze?

Bella's fingers had stopped moving.

"Are you awake?" he whispered. A spike of dread, his heart beat crazy. He tried to quiet himself so he could feel the rise and fall of her breathing but he couldn't. What was wrong with him? His hand pressed on her back. "Bella?"

She made a sound like a question in her sleep, the noise low in her chest. Lost in dreams and conversation, she shifted slightly, her toes curling against his knee. He closed his eyes, wondered who her dream-self was talking to.

He wished she'd been pregnant because as sure as he was that he loved her and that she loved him, the feeling of her slipping away from him terrified him. The hows and the whys of this eluded him, and that was terrifying in and of itself.

He rubbed her back to soothe the panicky ache in his chest.

Slowly she came awake with a sniff and lifted her head. Their smiles slid back and forth as relief filtered through him. Why had he been so afraid?

"I fell asleep," she mumbled, quite unnecessarily, then blinked, really looking at him. "Edward, what's wrong?"

In the waning sunlight he could see the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, spilling over onto her cheeks, faint as toasted sugar. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of looking at her face.

"Nothing," he replied, distracted. "I mean… I don't know."

She waited, knowing him better than anyone else.

"You haven't told me everything," he said.

Her eyes widened just a fraction and dropped to study his lips, his chin. The line of his jaw that was straight and hard and curved up toward his ear. "I haven't," she said gravely.

"Why, Bella? After everything…" The hurt in his voice made her drop her cheek back down to his chest. She rubbed his t-shirt absently through her fingers. "Don't do that," he huffed, tugging her hair. "Come back up here."

She didn't and he grabbed onto her suddenly, squeezing tight, as if she would fly away or disappear or simply stop existing. Time was fluid, he thought, his head spinning. The paths in each life were infinite; if you hit a dead end you backed up and found another way. She was water in his cupped hands. You drank and drank but it was hardly enough, and no matter how quickly you swallowed, how tightly you held your fingers together. Some always slipped through the cracks.

"Talk to me, Bella. I feel it, whatever it is you're not telling me." He sat up with her in his arms. He felt like pacing the room but he didn't want to let go of her so this was the best he could do.

She buried her face in his neck. "Dr. Shan said I shouldn't, but…"

"Fuck Dr. Shan."

She pulled away with a slight smile. "Okay," she said, gazing up at him, undisturbed by his harsh words. "Dr. Shan said he thought you were able to go back in time because you had some pictures that triggered a memory… and that with your heightened emotion, you somehow found a way to bridge across. You wanted to remember so badly that you actually put yourself there."

"Right, I know all that. You already told me."

"It was extreme emotion," she continued. "Did you ever wonder what would have caused such emotion that it could send you across time?"

"You'd been hurt, you'd been attacked and I wanted to help you. Save you." But even as he said the words he knew that wasn't the reason why.

At the end of a novel the hero solved the mystery in some dramatic fashion, realizing he'd had the answer the whole time. That it'd always been right there in front of him in the first few chapters of the book. What was the answer? His answer? It felt so close it was making his head hurt.

"No," she whispered, her eyes unfocused, looking behind him through the window. Out to the sea. "There'd been an accident." The light was going out of her. "There was an accident and I… well. I died."

Edward's eyes widened in a terrifying stare. Something welled up inside him, a horror, a rage; he gripped her so hard around the waist that she winced. "You…" he couldn't even say it. It was ridiculous and unspeakable and he knew it was true.

Unbelievably, he barked out a laugh. "That's why you don't swim." He blinked and wiped his eyes. "Isn't it?"

"Yes."

"So what does this mean?" he asked, sounding lost.

She couldn't meet his eyes, still staring over his shoulder toward the window. There was a storm in the distance. The water looked flat and black. Waiting.

There was an asparagus fern on the table beside the couch where they were sitting. It loved the filtered winter light coming in from the window. Bella had pulled a root ball loose from the larger fern she kept back in her kitchen and repotted it for him, since he was such a man and "didn't do plants." The fern was still a baby but thriving; it'd need to be transferred to a bigger container as it grew… by late spring, she estimated. She wondered if Edward would know to do that. She could tell him what to watch for; there were signs that indicated a plant needed a bigger pot.

But then he would know.

He'd know she was afraid she wouldn't be here to do it herself.

"What does it mean? I don't know," she answered bitterly, hating herself for a moment, hating the pain she invariably caused him. Hating the lack of choice, the exhausting, endless prison of fate. What was it all for, if she were doomed to die anyway? Was he fated to cycle back again and again? Had they done this very thing before? How many times had they really met? Was it three… or thirty?

"Don't be afraid," he whispered because he already knew somehow, looking at her fiercely. "We won't let it happen again. I can't lose you, Bella. I can't. I can't." His arms squeezed her so tightly she could barely breathe. "I just can't."

* * *

_February 13th, 2009_

Edward paced behind the bar, furiously texting with Bella, who'd left to wash clothes next door. He'd thought about walking over but he was open for business, and Jake wasn't due to come in until tonight. It was mid-afternoon and he already had a handful of customers. The Stanford doctors were in town.

_Come on. Just bring your clothes wet. You can dry them here. _He stared through the window at her house while he pressed send, as if that would make a difference.

_What's your deal? _She replied immediately._ There's no way I'm lugging a basket full of wet clothes across the sand. Knowing me, I'd drop them._

_Why'd you go over there anyway? _he shot back._  
_

_Do I need an excuse to go to my own house? _

He sighed. Of course she didn't. He was acting like a weird, possessive idiot. Before he could respond she sent another one.

_You were out of detergent._

Edward snorted. _I'll get you more detergent. I'll carry your clothes over- let me know when you're finished washing and I'll meet you at the door._

_NO. Stay put. I'll dry and fold over here. I need to clean over here anyway. Too dusty._

He understood, he really did. Even if cleaning was an excuse for space he didn't blame her; he'd monopolized her time, practically held her prisoner in his bed for over a month. Not that she seemed to mind.

Still, it didn't stop him from texting a _Whatever, stay as long as you want. I don't care… _out of spite. He regretted it immediately.

Bella called a few seconds later.

"I'm sorry," he said, low.

"Edward, what's wrong?" She sounded faintly amused.

"I don't— well, what am I supposed to say to Dr. Shan when he comes in? I don't even know if I'll recognize him."

"He'll recognize _you_."

"And then what?" He hated sounding so petulant.

"Edward, it'll be fine, I promise. I'll put my clothes in the dryer and come on over, okay? I'll make cookies too. I have slice and bake."

He relaxed, happy now that she was coming. "Chocolate chip?"

"Yess," she drew it out in exasperation, but he could hear her smile.

"You haven't even asked me what I got you for Valentine's Day. Don't you want to know?"

"You won't tell me."

"How can you know I won't tell you if you don't ask?"

She giggled. He loved it when she laughed. "Fine," she said. "Edward, what did you get me for Valentine's Day?"

"I can't tell you, it's a surprise," he teased her, his heart flying. "But you'll really, really like it. I thought we could go into town; maybe grab something for lunch."

"I have a surprise for you too." Her voice was sly. "And don't even _think_ about asking what it is."

"I could make you tell me."

"Oh no you couldn't."

"Famous last words, Bella. I have my ways."

"Bye big talker," she laughed. "I'm going to bake cookies."

"Hurry woman, I'm starving over here." He hung up the phone, still grinning, her laughter doing funny but wonderful things to his heart.

* * *

Bella had hurried, but Dr. Shan had still beaten her to Edward's. She walked in, plate of cookies in hand, to see their heads together at one of the tables, deep in conversation. Seeing them side by side again after all these years sent a tingling shock right through her. The cookies sat on the bar while she waited, loathe to speak. To say hello would move the events of their lives forward and she wasn't ready. She didn't want to go anywhere with Edward tomorrow. She wanted to hide with him in his bed, where the comforting beat of his heart distracted her from the other tick-tock in her head. The one that was counting down to her death.

"Some things are unexplainable," Dr. Shan was saying. "Or we simply are not yet equipped to understand. But while we may not understand why things happen to us, or to people we love, I think there is a plan. Fate… or God uses the ones He can for reasons we may never know."

"God?" Edward shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No offense Dr. Shan, but you don't sound too much like a scientist."

"Ahh, but even the most pragmatic of scientists need a bit of faith to make those mental leaps," he laughed. "If we only used what we _knew_ to be true in forming a hypothesis we'd be going in circles for years. Sometimes it's good to start with what we believe on faith and work backwards, connecting the dots to prove it."

"But then I'm no different than anyone else," Edward said bitterly. "I was young, but I remember every time someone patted me on the shoulder and told me it was 'God's will' that my mother died of cancer in four short months. God's _will_ happens every day; it's such a convenient thing to say, isn't it? But it wasn't fate's will—or God's will for Bella to die in the first place. It couldn't have been. Otherwise I never would have been able to do what I did."

"I don't disagree," Dr. Shan smiled sadly. "But I'm afraid I don't have any concrete answers. And there's always the possibility that you have evolved a bit further than the rest of the world and simply have a talent for jumping through space and time. Maybe you did it all on your own. Maybe there's no guiding force. No fate or kismet. Or God."

"But you don't believe that," Edward whispered.

"No, I don't. There was a reason for all this."

"How can I protect her?"

"You can't," Shan looked at Edward and shook his head evasively. The amber of the bourbon caught the light as he tilted his glass side to side. Slowly, back and forth. "You'll have to have a modicum of trust. I'm not saying that you shouldn't discourage Bella from running out to swim with dolphins right now, but you can't live in fear of what could happen. The best laid plans…" He sighed and downed the rest of his drink.

"That's not good enough," Edward said after a pause. He forced himself to pull his hands out of his hair. At the rate he was going it'd be gone by the end of the day.

"You're both aware of what happened before; you're both informed. I think that's the best you can do, Edward."

"Dr. Shan," Bella whispered tightly from behind them, making herself known.

"Bella! Join us, please." Dr. Shan stood, blinking at her through his glasses. "How have you been? And I think it's time the both of you called me Daniel."

"I'm fine," she smiled thinly. She unwrapped the cookies as a distraction while she reined in her emotions. "I'm just fine. Daniel."

Edward took a bite. "I knew you were there the whole time," he said, flashing her a half smile. His voice teased but he couldn't hold her gaze, his eyes skittering away.

She wished she knew what he was thinking.

* * *

**Until Friday... Thanks everyone. :)**


	46. Three

**I know I said Friday! But I'm only an hour and a half late! Faireyfan and les16 will get a kick out of that, especially. I owe them so much.**

**This is the last chapter. I appreciate the WIP readers that toughed it out with me for over a year, nearly every single week. More thanks at the bottom. :) For now, go read.**

* * *

"Don't get up," Edward called as he dragged himself into the store. "It's just me." The bells were gone, thank god, but now she had the door rigged with some kind of futuristic chime that echoed off the walls whenever someone walked in. He briefly considered that Shelley Cope might be going deaf as he wound his way through the aisles until he stood in the doorway of her office. She was watching the nightly news. "What's going on in the world?" he asked, behind her. Mrs. Cope always watched Brian Williams at ten. _Such a nice looking boy_, she'd say with a knowing look.

"Oh, it's so terrible, Edward," she said, glued to the screen. "All the orange farmers are losing their crop because of this cold snap we're stuck in. They said it's the coldest February in 80 years. We're gonna end up getting our oranges from way over in California, now isn't that a shame?" The commercial on, she turned in her seat to see what he needed. "Good Lord! What happened to you?"

Edward was pale and damp with sweat, using the corner of the wall to hold himself up. There was a rosy bloom of moisture that had spread across the side of his shirt, the faded color of washed out blood.

"I didn't mean to scare you. And I know I look awful," he murmured. "But I'm supposed to ask you for gauze and…" he rubbed his temple. "Pepto Bismol. You got all that stuff, right?"

"Well, of course," she bustled past him to the health and beauty section, a shelf consisting of feminine hygiene products, toiletries like toothpaste and Tylenol and hairspray. She did indeed have gauze, right there beside the Spongebob Band-Aids. "You need me to call Thomas?"

"Already saw him; he just happened to be at the bar. He's the one that stitched me up." The last time Dr. Thomas Newton had treated Edward he'd been a kid, nine years old. He'd broken the same arm that had now needed stitches, a fact that Dr. Newton seemed to find annoyingly humorous.

He grimaced and peeled a moist hand towel from the inside of his forearm. The sleeve of his shirt had been ripped, and then a cleaner cut had been made with scissors. He should be freezing but he didn't feel all that cold.

Mrs. Cope gasped so dramatically he was surprised she didn't throw her head back in a swoon and then demand the smelling salts, aisle three.

"Why in the world did he send you to get gauze looking like this? Without a coat and with your arm like that! Good Lord, you're probably in shock. Well, you'd better believe I'll have words with Thomas later. You should have called me." She glared at him, barely pausing to breathe. "You're gonna catch your death if you don't bleed everywhere first. And I'm still waiting for you to tell me what happened," she griped, throwing everything he wanted and then some, in a paper bag. "Do I need to give Bella a call and ask her what's going on?"

Edward wrinkled his nose, rubbing his palm over one eye. He abruptly felt ten years old again, hearing her anxious, motherly tirade. Plus he had one hell of a headache coming on. He wisely waited a few moments before speaking, just to be absolutely certain she was finished.

"Aw, don't be mad, Mrs. Cope." He sighed, sheepish. "A pipe burst in Bella's house and it backed up into her washing machine. I was trying to shut off the main water supply and ended up cutting the ever-loving fuck outta my arm," he said, staring at the neat row of stitches. It was tender but it didn't really hurt at all now. He shrugged. "The valve was stuck and I had to force it."

"Language."

"Sorry," he said distantly.

"Well, you're a man grown, it's not up to me to-" She looked up at him, running her hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "What'd Thomas give you?" she asked, squinting.

"Oh… why?"

"You look drugged to the gills, honey." She patted his cheek.

Edward pursed his lips. "Am I acting goofy?"

"A little more than usual," she said dryly. She grabbed her coat and herded him toward the front door.

"I can't remember. Maybe it was Demerol. He had it for something else but he said if I didn't want to go 'cross town to the ER that beggars couldn't be choosers. Anyway, I thought I had some gauze in the bathroom but I didn't so I came on over. He didn't know I left. He's probably looking for me." He peered into the bag she'd filled for him then patted the front pockets of his jeans. "Shit. I think I forgot my wallet, Mrs. Cope."

She could clearly see his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and sighed to herself. This boy was plum tuckered and on drugs to boot. Sleep would be the best thing for sure.

"Good thing I know where you live. Come on, baby. Let's get you home." He allowed her to lead him across the street and up to his front porch, docile and sleepy from the medicine. They went in the house through the front door, avoiding the entrance to the bar. He thought briefly about Jake but was sure he had everything under control. Edward wandered into the kitchen and sat down heavily at the table while Mrs. Cope went in search of Thomas Newton, to inform him that his patient had officially changed hands.

"You feeling sick on your stomach from that medicine?" Mrs. Cope asked as she came back in. She busied herself unpacking the bag and lining everything up on the counter. "You need some of this Pepto, honey?"

"No…" Edward's eyes flicked up to the ceiling, to the bedroom on the second floor. "It's for Bella. All the blood made her queasy." He held his arm out, closed his eyes while she wrapped him up in gauze. "I told her to go on to bed."

Mrs. Cope hummed. "Well. I ain't surprised about the pipe," she said. "Hold still, now. When that house sat empty in the winter, which wasn't very often, I'd go over there and run things a little. Make sure everything was in tip-top condition. 'Course this winter is unusual with it being so cold, you know. And with Bella not being there-"

"What do you mean?" Edward cut in, defensive. "She's there." He tried to act like he had no idea what she was talking about but the flush high on his cheeks gave him away.

"Edward Anthony, don't insult my intelligence," Mrs. Cope said, laying her glasses on the table. "If you think for one second I don't know what goes on in this town you got another thing coming." At his silence she changed the subject. "Did you get a chance to meet a tall fellow with orangey hair? That's my cousin's husband. He's one of those fancy research people from California. Remember I told you all about it last month?"

"Oh. Hell, I don't remember stuff like that. I didn't know you knew those guys," he said, yawning. He ran his thumb over the bandage, flexing his hand experimentally. His fingertips tingled.

"Well, who do you think got them to come all the way over here? I gave them a right good deal on a handful of those houses. I hardly ever get to see Mary, being so far away. So it worked out…" She tapered off and patted his hand. "Sit a spell honey and I'll see about Bella, alright?"

Edward laid his head on the hard wooden table and closed his eyes, feeling weird and disconnected. He needed to change clothes but wasn't ready to get up just yet. Maybe taking that Demerol wasn't such a good idea. If it couldn't even knock out a headache… he sighed and felt himself drift.

Until Mrs. Cope shook him and told him that Bella was nowhere to be found.

* * *

Bella was frantic, blindly searching in all the same places, fingers numb with cold. It was fucking freezing outside. The weather guy was predicting snow. Snow! In Florida! Her tennis shoes squelched and squeaked as she ran through the house.

"Please, please, please," she chanted, getting on her knees and looking under the couch for the third time. She knew her necklace wasn't there but she had to try. She'd tracked over her steps a hundred times. Had she caught it on something? Had the clasp broken and she didn't realize? She'd undressed and inspected her clothes, dressed again in something different. She'd taken apart the laundry room, gotten wet all over again, convinced her shell necklace had been a casualty of all the excitement over the frozen pipes.

But there'd been nothing but a lot of mess and water everywhere.

_please, please be there… where are you, where are you…_

Bella couldn't believe the damage just a few gallons of water could do. She'd used every towel she owned to try and soak up the disaster upstairs. Edward was the one to notice the water seeping through the ceiling over the bookcase side of her living room. He'd been hurrying out when he yelled up to her, on his way to grapple with the water main.

His blood had been so bright against the dank and murky dark of the night. It had made her physically sick to see him hurt.

She fumbled in the hall closet, groping through garden tools and summer clothes. An old easel. "_Yes!_" she blurted out to no one, "there you are." She smacked the flashlight against the heel of her hand. "Work, damn you." A sudden stream of light wheeled around the interior of the closet, temporarily blinding her as she spun it around in her hand. She ran outside without her coat, the panic welling up inside her chest.

And that was how Edward found her, shivering violently, the light from her flashlight combing the sand at eleven o'clock at night.

"What the fuck, Bella!" His voice was a hiss in her ear as he grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?" The light skittered across the sand where she'd dropped it, the beam bravely reaching all the way out to the water only to be swallowed up in the blackness. She couldn't make her jaw move the right way to speak. She thought her cheeks might be frozen.

Edward hauled her toward the closest door, which happened to belong to her house. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, a wild girl with bright red cheeks and wide, frightened eyes. He swore and snatched the quilt off the back of the couch, wrapping her up, sitting her down. A blinking, silent, frozen burrito.

They stared at each other for a few long seconds, the words not coming any easier to Edward. Finally he waved his hand toward the door and simply asked, "Why?"

She shook her head. How could she explain what the necklace meant? That it was more than a gift, more than the reminder of him through those hard years, with the comforting weight of silver around her neck? That it meant more than the memory of when he gave it to her? How could she explain that she thought she might die without it?

Tears scalded her cheeks. "I lost my necklace."

He stared at her as if she had three heads. "Have you looked?" he asked before he thought, managing to look embarrassed at her incredulity. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Edward, I have to find it. I _need_ it."

"We'll find it tomorrow," he said firmly. "And if we don't I'll buy you a new one. Bella, I thought you were sick. You were supposed to be in bed."

"_No_." Her vehemence surprised them both as she fought her way out of the blanket. "It's important that I find it. I have to wear it."

She looked absolutely green, clutching her stomach and he was suddenly furious that she might truly be sick. Here she was in wet clothes running around in below freezing temperatures. There were so many ways that fate could reassert itself and she would never even have to put a toe in the water.

"You don't _understand_. I kept it around my neck for almost five years; I never took it off! I have to find it," she cried, on the verge of hysteria. "_I have to find it!"_

"Then help me understand," he said fiercely, grabbing her arms. "You're talking nonsense."

"It protects me. It keeps me safe," she gasped, breaking his hold. One hand fluttered to her neck. "I've looked everywhere, but it's gone. It's gone. Oh god."

"That's ridiculous," he said, even though he'd gone pale. "How can you believe something so ridiculous." He knew what the necklace meant to her, hell, it meant something to him too, as he'd supposedly bought it and given it to her. But he absolutely refused to think that it was anything more than a silver chain with a pretty charm. To believe otherwise… He shook his head and forced a laugh. "Ridiculous," he said again.

"Right. As ridiculous as time travel," she said in a cold tone. "You'd believe me if you _remembered_."

He pushed her away immediately. "Stop," he warned her.

But panic had made her bold. "You'd _remember_, Edward, that when I died in the water that day the clasp on my necklace had broken; as if the moment it came off my body I didn't have one chance of surviving. It had caught somehow… the clasp caught on the fabric of my wetsuit. The paramedics pulled it off my dead body and gave it back to you. You were there the whole time."

"Stop saying those things!" he roared. "That wasn't _you_. This is some self-serving delusion you have, Bella; it's not a fucking prophecy. You're acting like a superstitious little idiot to think a magic necklace could protect you from _dying_."

Her palm cracked across his face, hard. "I have to believe something, otherwise I'll go crazy," she said viciously. "Just because you're afraid to accept it doesn't mean it's not real."

The fight abruptly went out of her and she sagged back against the couch. She looked small, defeated. "I'm scared, Edward. I don't want to die," she whispered. "I don't want to drown. It sounds so horrible. Fighting to breathe…" She rubbed her neck, trembling, still feeling the ghost of the little shell charm. "Please. I don't want to die. I want to stay here. With you."

He stared at her, his cheek still flaming from where she'd struck him. Her eyes lowered meekly, her shaky hand pressed against her mouth when he remained silent.

But there was so much, so much he wanted to say, to soothe her, to promise her, to make everything okay. The need to comfort was a physical pain; he wanted to love her into oblivion, kiss her until they both forgot everything except each other.

Instead the practicality of his father reared up. After all these years, Edward could finally grasp how a grown man could shut his heart away in self-preservation. Even from his own son.

"Come on," he said in a clipped tone. "I'm taking you home to bed and you're going to stay there. I'll come back over and look for your necklace if it makes you happy." He took her wet shoes and socks off like she was a child, wrapping her back up in the quilt. There was a blankness in her eyes that worried him, especially when he asked her repeatedly to stand up but got no response. He would rather have her anger than this.

Finally, he swung her up in his arms and fucking hell, the stitches burned and pulled. But she weighed nothing, and he had to get her out of there. She curled her fingers and buried her face into his chest with a contented sigh. _There_, he thought. She was there, only muted. "Nothing is going to happen to you, I swear it," he said, hating how his voice faltered.

The flashlight she'd dropped out on the beach was still on but barely. The batteries must have been old. There were no stars tonight, no moon, and the dimming light had all but given up faced with the possessive pull of the sea.

He realized she was asleep as he stepped through the sand. "If you died I would die too," he whispered, bumping the front door open with his shoulder. "And I'm not ready to go either. We have a lot of things to do, you know? You said you'd marry me, Bella. And I'm not letting you break that promise." Up the stairs, down the hallway, he sat her gently next to the pillow, pulled back the covers. His hands undressed her, slipping a long-sleeved t-shirt over her head. One of his. Fingers framed her face, thumbs sweeping under haunted eyes. She blinked at him sleepily. "That's what I believe. I can't… I can't believe anything else. Don't ask me to."

She was deeply asleep even before he finished tucking her in. He bent and kissed her hair promising to be back soon.

The pain meds Dr. Newton had given him must be wearing off somewhat because his arm was on fire. He pressed lightly on the gauze, grimacing at the tight sting as he walked around the upstairs of her house, keeping an eye out for her necklace. Despite all the drama of the night, the frozen pipes, the backup of water that flooded the laundry room, Bella's house wasn't really all that bad. They had some repair work to do, certainly, but nothing insurmountable.

After a frustrating hour he'd decided that there was no necklace to be found. He'd looked everywhere, inside the house and out. It was hiding somewhere surely, biding its time, the damned thing. After a year or so they'd come across it, maybe in the summer. They'd be doing something wonderful and mundane, grilling hamburgers maybe, and a flash, a spark would glint at them from a part of the deck they'd never even considered. _Oh, wow,_ they'd laugh, _can you believe it? It was caught on a nail this whole time!_

Or something like that.

Jake had closed up; the bar was dark. He thought about the ring he had for Bella as he walked back across the sand. Maybe that could be her new talisman, if she needed some kind of a lucky charm. That thought buoyed him considerably. So much in fact, that he bounded up the stairs, two at a time, peeking in on Bella and then making his way to his old bedroom, where he had it hidden away. He just wanted to look at it.

Edward sat on the edge of his old twin bed, the ring sparkling on the tip of his finger. He'd give it to her in the morning. There was no reason to wait. Everything looked better in the morning, right? Everything was going to be fine. He sighed and kicked off his boots, setting the ring on the little bedside table. He needed to shower before he went in to sleep next to Bella but god, he was so exhausted. Maybe if he lay down for just a few minutes…

* * *

"_Mama, no!" Edward whined, staring at the jar. Her scarf was bright yellow today and he thought it looked wondrously like the glow of the firefly he'd caught. He didn't want to let it out! But it was time to go inside for dinner. "I can keep it. I'll feed her, okay? See, look. I punched holes in the top so she could breathe."_

"_Oh honey," his beautiful mama with sea green eyes squatted down beside him, rubbing a smudge off his freckled cheek. "If you want the firefly to live you have to let it go. You'll see her again."_

"_She'll come back?"_

"_She'll come back," she whispered. "I promise."_

* * *

He woke suddenly in the middle of the night. A noise? What… he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, disoriented. His old room… he glanced around. His old room looked different. Different… what else was different… something. He was dreaming, except… why was he sleeping in his clothes again? He hissed in pain as he inadvertently rolled over on his arm. It was bandaged heavily, a little blood coming through the gauze. What the fuck was this? The pain woke him up though. Really woke him up. His eyes widened as he stared around the room.

_Holy shit. What was the date? What year? What year?_

He flung himself out of bed, stumbling over a pair of work boots. _Calendar? A fucking dated receipt from a store? God, please, anything, anything._ He pulled out his iPhone. Dead. He bit back a sob as he fumbled for the wallet in his back pocket. _His license. His driver's license…_

But when he opened his wallet a folded note fell out on the floor, yellowed, taped in placed, edges torn, frayed. He opened it slowly, gently.

And he remembered.

Everything.

The agony in his head was almost unbearable. He stumbled to the bathroom and emptied his stomach in the toilet, sitting down abruptly on the cold tile panting like he'd just finished a marathon. Knowledge tingled up his spine.

Two separate histories now occupied the same five years of his life. It'd been just two days ago he'd left Bella at the airport, crying. God, so young. Seventeen. And he'd just talked with Pete last night… but no; he'd been dead for months.

He'd been expecting this day or so long; he just had no idea it would make him feel so crazed... lost. Carefully he got to his feet, weak, testing his legs as he leaned on the sink with one hand, wiping his mouth with the other. His heartbeat hammered in his chest as he felt something fundamental shift inside him, clicking into place.

Colorado, waterfalls, loving her into a stupor then fastening the necklace around her neck. Her absolute panic when she couldn't find it.

Holy hell. _Bella_. He had to go to her… explain… but she had to have known that he just wouldn't understand until he really remembered.

His mind raced as he made his way out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth. The letter waited for him on the bed, mocking him. He stared at it from the doorway of his room. The most bizarre feeling of being both Dorothy and the Wizard Behind the Curtain all at the same time sat heavy in his stomach. He didn't have to read the letter because he knew it, backwards and forwards, word for word. He'd memorized it all five years ago.

He tossed the letter in the trash but it didn't feel right. Before he could think he'd snatched it out and ripped it up into tiny pieces, sprinkling the paper in like snow. And that had felt much better.

Still in a daze, he decided to shower, carefully unwrapping his arm to inspect the tiny stitches before he dropped his underwear and turned on the water. It was three in the morning, but time really didn't mean shit to him any more. It was all a jumbled mess in his head, the overlapping years. They were like panes of stained glass stacked on top of each other. It was obvious what pane was on top but to look straight down to the bottom would almost give you vertigo. There were layers upon layers upon different layers of colorful memories.

He was finishing this tonight. He felt as if he could keep her safe one more day then they might be okay. _Felt_ it in his bones. Necklace or no necklace.

But when he walked in the bedroom and saw her sleeping he didn't have the heart to wake her. The bed dipped as he lay down beside her, watching the rise and fall of each breath, the pulse fluttering in her neck. Tomorrow would have been the day she'd died but Bella hadn't gone near the water in years. She'd be okay. He felt sure of it.

He swept his fingers over her cheek, surprised when she opened her eyes.

She closed them again, almost immediately. "There you are," she murmured. Her hand came up to catch his fingers against her face, tangling them together, tucking both their hands under her chin.

"Here I am," he whispered. A tear ran from the corner of his eye all the way down his nose but there was no way he was pulling his hand free from where she held him. "You're safe here, with me." His two worlds overlapped, the stained glass combining to create new, beautiful colors. "We'll have those pancakes in the morning, Firefly. The ones I promised you before. You just never made it back for breakfast."

She hummed and smiled in her sleep. And Edward closed his eyes.

* * *

It was early, too early and everything was gray. Bella got up to use the bathroom, feeling horrible enough to be sick, feeling restless, off-center. The being sick part didn't happen, even though she stared into the toilet long enough to empty her stomach five times over.

Her bare neck looked strange in the mirror.

She wandered to the French doors to look out at the water and immediately felt it. The compulsion. Something pulling at her, something tugging, twisted deep. It _hurt_, whatever it was. It whispered that the water could take the pain away, that she only had to come and baptize herself, wash away the pain that others inflicted, people she didn't know, and people she knew all too well. The pain of guilt, of shame, of not being good enough. She could be weightless.

She threw her head back to keep her eyes from brimming over as her toes curled and uncurled against the short plush of the rug, waiting for the feeling to pass, god, _please_, pressing her hands hard into the frame of the doorway.

But it didn't. Edward lay sleeping and she thought about taking a walk on the beach. Just a small walk, she reasoned. She wouldn't get in. Maybe just to get her feet wet. Somehow she knew that if she kept herself moving the horrible feeling would go away. She was finding it hard to take a deep breath.

She wandered into the kitchen, the colors everywhere alive and vibrant, jumping out at her. Maybe everything seemed particularly vivid compared to the blandness of the stormy sky. The green of the unripe tomato from her plant on the windowsill, the purple nail polish Edward had brought home as a surprise one day, letting the bottle slide down the front of her shirt as he kissed her. A paperback mystery lay behind the bar, the title splashed across the front in a garish bloody red. She'd never had time to read it. Her heartbeat rushed frantic in her ears, the crash of waves breaking over her head. She grabbed a towel, held it to her chest. It was red.

Chaos reined above, but the promise of peace just below the surface was strong. _Bella, you could be weightless_.

Outside now, and she didn't even remember opening the back door. Bare feet soundless on the wooden slats of the porch; she made it to the steps and then stopped, barely breathing. She couldn't go any further and it was agony. She couldn't go forward and she couldn't go back. She stumbled down to sit on the last step, leaned her head against the banister, and cried.

* * *

"Bella?" His own voice was a rasp he didn't recognize. His arm sprawled over long abandoned sheets.

Edward's body was two steps ahead of him and he was out of the bed before he was even awake. He stood for a minute assimilating, panic bouncing around and around inside him as he stared out the doorway, his aching head thumping with each compression of his heart. It had taken roughly twelve seconds from the time he got out of the bed to blink in realization. And then he was running.

He burst out the door, and nearly ran over her huddled form on the bottom step. She was keening, in a daze, a wild animal snared in a trap. She clutched her middle and jumped miserably when he came up behind her. His hand on her back made her shudder.

"Tell me," he begged. "Tell me so I can help."

"I feel torn in two," she said in a shattered voice, tearing at his heart. "And I can't breathe. I can't…"

"Let me hold you," he choked out, and he didn't wait for her approval, pulling the trembling mess of her into his arms. At least she'd stopped crying.

He whispered in her ear as he rocked her back and forth, watching the sunrise, the gray slowly giving way to blinding white. He talked about nothing and everything, his mother, stories about Uncle Pete, some of the more ridiculous things he'd done at school and later, in New York. He talked until she gasped and relaxed against him more than an hour later, pressing her nose into his neck, taking a deep breath for the first time that morning. The sun broke through the clouds, the water sparkling. Her tear streaked face turned up to find him and he kissed her slowly.

"I think it's over," she whispered, opening her eyes. "I couldn't go out there. I wanted to, god, I wanted to. It hurt not to go, like a terrible pressure sitting on my chest. It let up the closer I moved toward the water but… something stopped me. Held me back."

"What," he asked, gathering her hair in his hand, pressing his cheek against her beating heart. He couldn't get close enough.

"I had an anchor," she said. "He saved me. The words sound so inadequate but it's the best way to describe what I felt."

"Me?"

"Before you," she whispered, "but a part of you." She pulled his hand to her stomach to show him what she meant but his fingers were fisted tight. "Open your hand, I want to show you," she laughed through her tears, figuring he was acting stubborn just to see her smile. She peeled back his fingers one by one to reveal a shining ring in the center of his palm. _Oh!_

"Oh," she giggled and sniffed, wiping her eyes. "We're both full of surprises." She turned to look at him fully. "I've missed you."

"I know," he said gently.

"So I wasn't dreaming last night." She traced his jaw reverently. "You were talking about pancakes."

"That was me," he murmured, inexplicably shy as he slid the ring on her finger. It was perfect.

"You called me Firefly," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"I did." He glanced at her. After a pause, "You seem surprised."

Now it was her turn to blush. "I don't know. I didn't think… I mean, that was your name for _her_."

He looked out to the water, the waves never ceasing. Always moving forward. "Seeing you here, living in that house, knowing you like I have for a year," he smiled at her. "Sometimes it's hard to separate you." He swallowed. "But all she wanted was to be exactly who you are right now. If she were here she'd gladly give all she had to disappear into your life, live it alongside you. She's always been there anyway, inside you. She's a possibility of you. I guess we're all like that because the things we experience makes us who we are," he said, squeezing her hands, his thumb rubbing over her new ring.

"I get it, I really do," she said. "I fell in love with you all over again- but it was a different you." She shook her head, waving her hand, "you know what I mean. What I'm trying to say is that I love _all_ the sides of you."

He put his hand over her heart; it was strong. She was here, in his arms, not cold and pale on an emergency stretcher. The contrast of two very different mornings threatened to overwhelm him. "So I really am getting two for one." His smile was wobbly at best.

She shook her head again, moving his hand down. "You get three," she said, eyes bright.

"Three," he whispered, in awe, in wonder. "Three." He kissed her one last time before he scooped her up. "I owe you some pancakes, I believe."

Bella twirled her hand, admiring. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes to everything."

* * *

**Yay! *throws confetti* Edward says the drinks are on him for the rest of the night. :)**

**I simply would not have survived without the hard work of faireyfan and les16. susayq was there in the beginning, and rtgirl was my pinch hitter.**

**Thank you's ahead...  
**

**vysed and xtothey, thank you. They found me and rec'd me up and down the fandom. I was a complete lurker, I didn't tweet, FB, or anything else. But once xtothey discovered that there was only a couple of hours between us, she wouldn't let me rest. **

**Thanks to the chat-room girls, they know who they are. Noelle and The Notebook, where she kept better records of the timelines than I did! **

**Thank you to my girls on Twitter, all the fabulous authors who rec'd Firefly in their own chapter updates, and to Teh Lemonade Stand. I could wallow for days in the recs and reviews on that site. :)**

**And finally, thank you to rochelle allison, who inspired me to even try this in the first place. She made it look so effortless (it's not) and always responded to my fangirly reviews, encouraging me just by being herself. It takes a lot for a die-hard lurker to review, I promise.**

**There are things I love about Firefly in Summer and things I would change. But in the end I'm proud of myself. I've saved every single review, constantly amazed at the love you've shown for this little story. Thank you so, so much.**

**There's a small epilogue coming up, if you're interested.**

**And I do have plans to write something else. I'd love it if you stuck around. :)  
**


	47. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

_I feel as though I keep a running letter to you in my head and I wonder if I'll ever write it down. Probably not; sometimes the things in my head lose a little in the translation. There just aren't enough words, or if there were, they wouldn't mean the same things to anyone else. So maybe I'll keep them to myself for just a while longer. _

_It's hard to separate the two of you sometimes… the Bella before I jumped back in time and the Bella that escaped that horrible night. There'll be times when my thoughts are waiting on the tip of my tongue… 'do you remember when we…' and I'll have to pause because it's a memory that she doesn't have. Will never have._

_And there are so many beautiful memories of you, Firefly. I keep them close to my heart. Every shy glance, every smile that flashed across your face, all the more precious because I feel as if I fought tooth and nail for them. Things happened the way they were supposed to happen, I know, but sometimes I'll wake in the middle of the night, open my eyes and watch you sleeping next to me in our bed. The very same bed where you whispered your deepest secrets, where you cried as you let me see all the shattered parts that you'd tried to repair yourself. Without love, friends or family, without any sort of support at all. _

_The same bed where I held you before you left me sleeping at sunrise, to wash away the monsters in your head. It's hard not to wish I'd never gone to sleep that night, to save you the pain of dying so young, of what you must have gone through out there alone. To save myself the pain of losing you. But I've made my peace with that. _

_I do wish I could have told you that everything happens for a reason. Before we went to sleep on that last night together I would have whispered of a life, maybe not completely free of pain, but a life brimming with hope. A life with possibilities, where you weren't shackled with fear or held captive by memories that left circles under your eyes. A life that held everything you ever wanted. I would have shown you what I see now, every single day. I would have kissed you and told you that it would all be worth it in the end._

_But you know this already, don't you? You're there inside the sweet girl I married, the love of my life. I hope she never needs you, but I'm comforted by knowing that such a strength lies deep within her heart. I'll never understand all you endured, but I know enough to be inspired by how you lived your life, your capacity for love and forgiveness._

_So you see, I owe you everything, beautiful girl. You taught me so much. Humility and kindness. How to be brave. You taught me how to love completely and without reason, enough to find you again when you needed me most._

_A little girl plays on your beach now, with long dark hair that she sweeps impatiently out of her eyes when the wind picks up. She dreams of mermaids and fairies and hides in the roses we planted together in the garden. She's smart and beautiful and prone to giggling. Sometimes she'll look at your father's sketch and ask how Grandpa Charlie knew what she looked like so many years before she was born._

_Looking back now, I can finally see how the pieces fit together. We never would have created our daughter that morning, had we not been so swept up, forgetting all sanity and reason after being separated for more than a month. And because of that, the tiny new life growing inside saved you weeks later._

_I used to think it was fate that sent me back but now I'm not so sure. Maybe it was something I did all on my own, or maybe there were other, unseen forces at work pushing and pulling us in some epic battle of good and evil. That sounds unbelievable perhaps, but no more unbelievable than jumping through time. I don't think we'll ever know, and I've made my peace with that too._

"Daddy?" A soft, sweet voice.

"Hey, Butterbean." He pulled her in for a hug, her skin warm from the sun, hair still wet from her swim. "You ready to go in?"

"Yeah-huh. Mama's wavin at you from th' house." She looked down at her feet and wiggled them in the sand. Every toenail a different color. "I'm pretty sure she wants some choc'la chips, Daddy. Pretty sure 'bout dat."

"Oh really?" He lifted his sunglasses. "And what's she gonna do with those chocolate chips?"

"Cookies?" Her hopeful answer made him grin.

"Well, that sounds good to me. Let's go see your Mama and see if you're right." As she squealed and dashed off he called her back. "Hold on— grab your shoes and we'll go see Mrs. Cope."

"'kay! Imma race you, Daddy!"

He let her win, his steps to the house slowing, his heart beating just a bit faster at the beauty that was his wife waiting for the little girl to fly into her arms.

Bella scooped her up, kissed her on the nose. "Hey, sweetheart."

And the girl patted her mommy sweetly on the cheek, echoing the words she'd heard her daddy say so many times. "Hey, m'Firefly Love you."

* * *

**Thank you to faireyfan and les16. :)**

**In case you're confused, Edward really does consider Firefly and Bella to be the same person. Hence his interchanging of "she and you"... there's just a side of his wife that he will know better than anyone else, even her. **

**The reviews for the last chapter were simply and wonderfully, overwhelming. Thank YOU for reading. And now I can hit that "complete" button.**

**xoxo**


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